


Leaving Las Vegas in 34 Pieces

by FancyFree2813



Series: Layers (originally named The Goofy Mountie Series [13]
Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Explicit Language, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyFree2813/pseuds/FancyFree2813
Summary: Ray Vecchio is undercover in Las Vegas, posing as Armando Langoustini, and is in desperate trouble. Fraser and the rest of the gang are there for the wedding. Will Armando turn to them for help? This story is a sequel to ‘Goin' to the Chapel’.
Relationships: Benton Fraser/Margaret Thatcher, Ray Vecchio/Other, Renfield Turnbull/Kerri
Series: Layers (originally named The Goofy Mountie Series [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954873
Kudos: 1





	Leaving Las Vegas in 34 Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains spoilers for The Man Who Knew Too Little; minor Mountie on the Bounty; and several for previous Layers’ stories. This story was originally written as a response to The Turnbull's Evil Twin Challenge. From the episode The Man Who Knew to Little I have taken the Dean McDermott character, named him Rene Laurier and made him truly evil. He is Renfield's evil twin. Be warned - there is violence, mention of attempted rape and angst. There is also death - but not of a major character.

Leaving Las Vegas in 34 Pieces

by Shirley Russell

1st Piece

Prologue (also Epilogue from ‘Goin’ to the Chapel)

The tall, very slender man stood on his terrace leaning on his elbows against the low glass wall that separated the terra cotta tiled area from the pool and tennis courts below. He loved the view of the sun setting over the dessert, but it had taken him many months to grow accustomed to the cactus and sagebrush and other dessert plants that changed very little as the seasons progressed. At home, the dogwood and azaleas would be blooming. The daffodils would be up in all their glory by now. The lawn probably already needed to be mowed.

‘Shit!’ He had become an expert at blocking those memories from his mind. His life depended on it, for Christ's sake. But today had been close, too close for comfort. And, damn it, he was scared.

He'd been cruising down Las Vegas Blvd just like he had a hundred times before. Feeling almost, not quite, but almost comfortable in the back of the long black limousine. The blacked-out windows allowed him to gaze at the world while allowing him the anonymity his 'family' required.

Sheila was with him of course, long legs wrapped around him, skirt hiked up to here, hands under his shirt, doing all sorts of wonderful things to his body. The fact that Nick was sitting not three feet away, drooling at every move she made, was exactly the point. Nick really got off on watching them. Pervert!

And then he'd seen them, standing on the corner in front of that tacky drive-thru wedding chapel. Laughing and acting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He'd seen Turnbull first, hard to miss the tall guy in a crowd. When he saw Thatcher, his blood turned cold. Time stopped for him as he tried desperately not to look any farther. But he couldn't help himself, he continued to stare as Nero held the car at the red light.

He saw the gorgeous blonde that Turnbull held just a tad too protectively, and he saw the guy he recognized from the picture that Welsh had shown him, the guy who took his place. And when he could no longer control the urge, he looked at Benny. 

He was sure Sheila had felt him flinch, he just prayed that Nick hadn't noticed as well.

And so Armando Langoustini stood on his terrace, staring at the desert sunset. But it was Ray Vecchio who stood, lonely and scared, with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

____________________________________________________

2nd Piece

Ray Vecchio had been undercover in Las Vegas almost two years now, the two longest, most frightening years of his life. Two years in Hell, that's how he thought of them, when he allowed himself the luxury of thinking of himself as Ray Vecchio. They had told him at the outset that any thoughts about his past or of the future as Raymond Vecchio could be hazardous to his health, so he tried his damnedest to live in Armando Langoustini's skin twenty-four seven.

Until today, that is. How the hell was he supposed to not react with Turnbull, Thatcher and, dear God, Benny standing not ten feet away from him? He'd missed Fraser but he hadn't realized just how much until about two hours ago. Now he could not get that damned Canadian out of his head. Who else in the world would stand on a street corner in Las Vegas, in 104-degree heat, wearing a flannel shirt? Ray smiled through his tears. Damn Canadian.

He thought back to the last time that he had spoken to Fraser. He had promised he'd be in touch, but events conspired against him and after that one postcard he had never contacted Fraser again. He'd seen the way the Mountie smiled at Thatcher today, and how he'd looked at the others standing on the sidewalk with him. Why had he thought that just because his normal life had ceased to exist that everyone else would stay the same? Ray Vecchio might have stopped living, but Fraser and the rest had gotten on with their lives. Why did that make him so incredibly sad?

He had to stop this reverie. He had to stop thinking of himself as Ray Vecchio. He had many more important things to worry about, number one on the list being whether or not Nick noticed anything suspicious. He knew Sheila had, she would have had to be brain dead to miss his reaction to seeing his friends. He wasn't worried about her though, but he was scared shitless about Nick. 

Angelo had assigned Nick to be Armando’s bodyguard right after Mickey had been killed. An FBI sting operation, that had gone terribly wrong. Armando had barely made it out alive, and Mickey had died. Armando was afraid that Angelo was becoming suspicious anyway, and the death of the bodyguard was as good an excuse as any to get his man in close. There wasn't any one thing that made him suspect Angelo’s motives, just that innate cop instinct for self-preservation. Nick might have been hired for his muscle, but Armando learned real quick that the man was anything but stupid.

And if Nick thought something was up, you’d better bet Angelo would know about it real soon, if he didn't already. That was why Armando was scared. The Boss, the guy who ran the rackets for the entire West Coast, Godfather of the Iguana Family, Angelo Morelli, Mister Big himself. If he thought Armando was up to something, they could all be dead, not just Armando, but his Chicago friends as well. 

As Armando stood on the terrace staring into the desert sunset, he became aware that someone was watching him. He didn’t acknowledge their presence, how could he? Armando Langoustini didn’t cry, and Ray Vecchio couldn’t afford to let anyone see him this way. 

At that precise moment he heard the unmistakable click of stiletto heels on the tile. 

____________________________________________________

3rd Piece

Sheila brushed past Nick who was standing in the opening of the glass doors. Brushed not quite closely enough for Nick. She allowed her generous breasts just a whisper of a touch against his chest as she sashayed past him.

“Fuck you,” he whispered.

“In your dreams, honey.” She cracked her gum in his face as she paraded on out to Ray.

‘If only you only knew,’ Nick thought. God, did he want a piece of that! 

Sheila wore a swimsuit, but she was not ready for a swim. No one on the face of the earth could swim in a suit like that. 

The Armando part of the man she approached loved the suit, it covered so little, and revealed so much, but the Ray part of him could only wonder why she bothered to wear anything at all.

She came up behind him and pressed her surgically enhanced chest into his back. “Miss me, Mandy?” she purred just loudly enough for Nick to hear, as she rubbed her body up and down his back. She ran her hands around his waist and down his abdomen as she continued her gyrations against his body.

When he did not respond, she purred more loudly, “no? Didn’t miss me? I’ll bet ya missed this.” She unzipped his cashmere slacks and continued her gyrations. Her body movements finally had the desired effect – on Nick.

____________________________________________________

Nick always got off on watching Langoustini and that whore Sheila get it on. Unfortunately, now he’d have to take his eyes of them long enough to take care of his current ‘situation’. Give him a few minutes in the can and he’d be right as rain. And that was the plan.

“He gone yet?”

“Yeah, heard him moan a second ago, he’ll be gone a few minutes. Now, what the hell happened today? What did you see?”

He sighed deeply. “Friends from Chicago. Have they monitored any calls from the house since we got back?”

“No, I checked with Mullins before I changed into this damn suit--”

“Oh, I don’t know, Nick seems to like it just fine.”

“Smart ass, we don’t have time for this. If Nick suspects anything we could both be in deep shit. Let’s walk.” 

Sheila and Armando walked silently down the tile steps to the yard below, past the beautifully manicured lawn, which cost a fortune to water, toward the pool. Outdoors by the pool was the only place they could talk without fear of bugs or listening devices. Angelo was renowned for his fascination with technology, and mistrust of everyone, ‘trusted’ employee, or bitter enemy, he spied on them all.

Every time this Armando looked at the pool he marveled at the real Armando’s opulent taste. Grecian columns flanked the far end, separating the pool from the green and white striped canvas that formed the tent like structure of the pool house. Naked female marble statues, standing in front of the columns, poured urns of water into the pool. As much he hated Armando Langoustini, the new Armando could get used to living like this. He could almost forget the danger they were in, almost.

“Mandy!” she whispered, “focus on me here, we gotta figure out what we’re gonna do!”

“Hey, you’re the Fed, not me!” he whispered back. “We’ve got the extraction plan, but we gotta figure out if we need to panic. You’re sure Nick hasn’t made any calls?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. God, Mandy, ya gotta trust these guys.”

“I don’t trust any Fed,” when she frowned at him he hurried on, “except for you.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I’d trust you with my life, hell, I have trusted you with my life,” he whispered into her hair.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Sheila felt his fear leeching into her body. She had to take several deep breaths to calm herself. “Nick hasn’t given us any reason to believe he suspects anything. We gotta hang on to that. We’re so close to wrapping this up Mandy, we can’t give up now. Three days, it’s just three days until the meet. I know you’ve been in this a lot longer than me, and I know you’re stressed about as far any man can be stressed, but we just gotta hang on for a few more days.” She had to convince him, and herself, that there was no reason to freak. Even if Nick saw him staring at people on the street, so what? There was no reason to think he found anything suspicious in that.

Armando held her close to him and sighed. “You're one gutsy lady, you know that? I don’t know how I could have made--”

“Don’t get all mushy on me here, Mandy.” She shivered.

“Scared?”

“Nah, just cold.”

“Cold? It may be almost dark, but it’s gotta be at least 100 degrees!”

“Yeah, and I’m not wearing much--”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Mandy grinned at her.

“Well, Nick did, and that was the idea. And our time is up, here comes your watch dog.” She grabbed Armando’s head and brought his mouth down hard against hers, fifty percent for show, fifty percent for comfort.

_____________________________________________________

4th Piece

Sheila LaRue came into Armando Langoustini's life about six months ago, right after the FBI agent assigned to him, Michael Leoni, had been killed. Recruited for this assignment straight out of Quantico, Sheila was the perfect replacement for the murdered bodyguard.

She grew up in Southern California, Newport Beach to be exact. She spent most of her teenaged years on the beach working on her tan, or on the water working on her surfing. A California surfer girl through and through. Blonde, shapely, and fit, she wanted nothing more in life than to be an actress, a dumb blonde type with a Baywatch body. There were only two things that prevented her from achieving her dream. Her father, who was a police chief, and her brain, which was as well developed as the rest of her body. 

When Sheila was a senior at Newport Harbor High her father was killed. A strung out junkie had taken a child hostage and her dad had tried to be a hero. He'd succeeded in being a hero all right, a dead one. Sheila had decided then and there that she was going into law enforcement. Her family, especially her mother, had spent hours trying to talk her out of it, but shouting, tears, begging and all the rest had only served to strengthen her resolve.

While majoring in criminology at UCLA, with a minor in drama, she was spotted by a recruiter from the FBI. With her brains and looks, not to mention her body, he thought she might just be perfect material for undercover work. Hours of agonizing soul searching later, Sheila made her decision. After graduation it was off to Quantico.

Like father, like daughter, she guessed. Sheila seemed to have a natural aptitude for police work. That, combined with her acting abilities, made for the perfect undercover operative. And then Michael Leoni had been killed. 

Armando Langoustini had a rep for liking his women busty and young, the bustier the better, the younger the better. He also had a penchant for green eyes and auburn hair. So, after a few minor surgical alterations to her body, green contact lenses and Wella’s Light Copper #255 hair color, Sheila LaRue, FBI agent, barely out of the Academy, was on her way to play the part of seducing Armando Langoustini.

The real Langoustini, not Ray Vecchio's impersonation of him, was notorious around the Vegas red light district. He frequented an establishment called the 'PassionFlower Hotel'. Langoustini liked it rough, and he could be mean, so he was not a real favorite with the girls, but they did like his money. The new Langoustini continued in the old Langoustini tradition, but he was never rough, and never mean. Once the girls saw the change, they fought over him. Unfortunately, as time wore on they saw less and less of the kinder, gentler Armando Langoustini.

Local Las Vegas contacts enabled the FBI to insinuate Sheila into the happy family at the PassionFlower Hotel very quickly. They also made sure that she was 'occupied' by local agents, who found the time they paid to spend with her well utilized. Sheila was briefed on Langoustini and Ray Vecchio. Even before she met him, Sheila felt a growing admiration for Ray, a city cop, who had given up everything to help bring down the West Coast mob. After a couple of weeks of living in the Hotel, Sheila was anxious to meet this guy.

But with Nick watching his every move it was getting harder and harder for Armando to get to the drop. He was finally able to make it after Sunday Mass, about three weeks after Sheila arrived in Las Vegas. As usual the note was coded, but he could tell immediately what the few words said, 'Sheila PassionFlower Tuesday 11:00pm'. Armando had no clue as to what he would find once he got there.

_____________________________________________________

5th Piece

Armando was mobbed, so to speak, when he walked in to the PassionFlower on Tuesday night. Every girl in the place wanted his attention, and his money. When he spied the new girl in the corner, however, they all knew they were out of the running. At first he thought she was someone's daughter, she looked so young and so sweet, where as most of the other girls were anything but. Madame Sadie had taken advantage of Sheila's youth and sweet face and dressed her up in a see through baby-doll nightie, and given her a teddy bear, for God’s sake, to carry. There was already a guy drooling all over her, but when he was told Mr. Langoustini desired the lady's presence, the guy beat a hasty retreat.

Once inside her room, Armando grabbed the nearest thing he could find, a bath towel. "God, cover yourself up. That outfit leaves nothing to the imagination. How old are you anyway?"

"Nice to meet you too!" she muttered as she wrapped the towel around her.

"Sorry, Ray Vec--"

"I know who you are Mr. Langoustini," she whispered. "I'm Sheila LaRue." She came in very close and whispered in his ear, "FBI, you idiot. Never use any name but Langoustini! You didn't have any idea who I was!"

"Sorry, I just assumed . . . " His voice trailed off as he dropped down on to the bed.

Taking a closer look at him, Sheila immediately regretted her words. The man looked totally exhausted. She had seen pictures of Ray Vecchio, and the man sitting before her bore little resemblance to those pictures. His face was a map of worry lines, his eyes sunken and lifeless, and he looked as if he were skin and bones. Here was a man who had been undercover far too long. Sheila could not resist the desire to take him in her arms and hold him.

"You know I'm not expecting any action here, right?" Armando was too exhausted to do anything, even if he had wanted to.

"Just shut up and relax, Mandy. We're gonna get through this together. You're not alone any more."

Within thirty minutes of meeting her, Armando Langoustini was sound asleep in Sheila's arms.

_____________________________________________________

6th Piece

Armando let it be known immediately that Sheila was now private property, and she was suddenly off the hook. He went back to the PassionFlower every night for the next week and spent the time well. Armando brought her up to speed on who was who in the Iguana family; they rehearsed their act and learned everything they could about each other’s habits. Armando was impressed with her ability to absorb so much information so quickly, and Sheila was impressed with Mandy’s strength and courage, still apparent even after so long undercover.

After a week, Armando Langoustini walked out of the PassionFlower Hotel with Sheila LaRue in tow, and neither one of them ever looked back. Sheila was relieved to get out of the business, but extremely apprehensive about what lay ahead. Being in the bosom of the largest mob family west of the Mississippi was very intimidating, especially for a green, twenty-four year old surfer girl from Newport Beach, even if she was a full fledged FBI agent.

Mandy thought it was really funny that he had at first taken comfort from her, and now she needed reassurance from him. Little did he know how much they would come to rely on each other over the next six months.

It didn’t take much prodding from Mandy before Sheila regained her self-confidence and he found himself drawing strength from her more and more often. Detective Ray Vecchio had just been undercover too long. Putting up the Armando front, while watching his back twenty-four hours a day seven days a week had taken its toll. 

After they'd been partners for about three months, Sheila realized that Mandy just couldn't take any more. She wasn't being watched as closely as he was, so it was fairly easy for her to contact the Bureau.

On a beautifully sunny day in February, Sheila took the Porsche and went shopping. She met her contact in the changing room of the Pink Pagoda Dress Shoppe downtown. The female agents she met at this place varied, but by now she knew them all rather well.

"Karol, we got trouble at the house. Mandy has gone way past the limit of his endurance. He's starting to talk in his sleep, and he's just not as sharp as Morelli expects him to be. He made some kind of mistake balancing the revenue verses expense accounts out of the Portland operation, and I thought Morelli was gonna have a coronary. Tell Mullins he's gotta pull Mandy. It's been almost two years for God's sake, how much more time in Hell they expect him to serve?"

Karol did not like the look on Sheila's face. "Be careful, honey. You're getting a little too personally involved. You're losing your objectivity. But you're right, we've been monitoring Langoustini," Sheila's big eyes forced Karol to reassure her, "don't worry, it's from a distance, we’d never do anything to jeopardize the operation, but he is starting to slip. I'll talk to Mullins, and maybe we can wrap this up in a couple of weeks. I know the Bureau’s got a ton of stuff on the family, it’s sure to be enough.” Karol looked at the girl who was about the same age as her daughter. “I'm serious about you being careful. He's close to the breaking point, and I don't care how you feel about him, do not let him take you down with him. He's an assignment, sure your first, but still just an assignment. If you see any hint that things are about to fall apart, don't desert him, but don't sacrifice yourself for him either. I mean that, honey, you gotta take care of number one."

"I'm cool. Nothing's gonna happen to either one of us, if Mullins will just get us out of there." But she was way too involved, and she knew it. 

________________________________________________________

7th Piece

Sheila and Mandy became lovers after they had been together about a month. They both knew it was more than just dangerous, it was downright stupid. But they were both desperately lonely and, more often than not, very scared. They had discovered, quite by accident, that they could get rid of Nick for short periods of time by a relatively short show of sex play. One afternoon they were in the middle of the regular show when Angelo called Nick for a job. Armando was pretty sure that Angelo used Nick as an enforcer to teach other family members the facts of life in the Iguana family, but he couldn't quite prove it. He never pursued it however as he sure as hell didn't want to find out from personal experience.

They were at the pool, lounging around, wearing next to nothing, and putting on the 'show' for Nick, who was lingering in the bushes several yards away. Sheila sat on Mandy's lap, facing him, with her breasts not two inches from his face, as they quietly discussed the downturn in profits from the drug trade in Boise. Angelo was gonna be pissed, and that usually meant all kinds of unpleasantness for the messenger, one Armando Langoustini. But Mandy could handle that, hell he'd handled that since the first time he'd seen Angelo Morelli. The serious discussion was just how to get the specifics of the Boise drug trade to the FBI.

There was no way either of them could have anticipated Nick's call from Angelo, or Nick's announcement that he would have to leave for awhile. Usually he left for a few minutes, to take care of his ‘need’, but now they were going to be alone for quite some time.

When they heard the motorcycle leave, Mandy sank back into the lounge chair and closed his eyes. Sheila could feel the relief wash over both of them, as she gently kissed his forehead. Both of them had had fantasies about each other, but they had also promised themselves that they would never act on them. But here they were, so close, and so lonely, and so in need of comfort.

Their love making that afternoon was more of a release than from any form of passion, but the passion grew as the weeks progressed. Their involvement was a big mistake, but the die had been cast, and for Mandy and Sheila there was no turning back. 

As the weeks past, Sheila worried more and more about Mandy’s mental and physical state, and was finally forced into the meeting with Karol at the Dress Shoppe. She felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders when Karol had said she agreed that Ray Vecchio had had as much of Armando Langoustini as one man could take. 

One week after Sheila and Karol met however, Angelo announced a big international meet, with organizations from Mexico and Canada. It would take a couple of months to arrange the details since many of those attending were wanted in at least one country, and one of them had recently escaped from a maximum-security prison outside Toronto. And so, any chance of getting the FBI to agree to pull Mandy and Sheila out of danger flew right out the window.

It was just three days before the big meet that Ray saw Benny and the others, standing on Sherman Street, right outside that tacky wedding chapel.

________________________________________________________

8th Piece 

Kerri Ann Turnbull awoke the morning after her wedding with every muscle in her body crying out in pain. She grimaced as she tried to move. She supposed many brides woke up from their wedding night a little sore, but she doubted many of them were sore for the same reason she was. 

She turned to - before she could look at him she smiled, he was her husband. Through the trials and tribulations, the joy and the laughter, through the nightmare they called a wedding and now through a wedding night spent on the floor, they were finally married.

Kerri thought back to last night, and their quick trip to the 'hotel'. After their brief reception, Ray loaded all of them into the limo and they proceeded exactly one block. When the car pulled into the parking lot of the 'Hunka Hunka Burning Love Waterbed Motel' Renny finally lost it. He looked at Ray with fury on his face.

Through clenched teeth, Renfield spoke very slowly, enunciating as best he could. "I sincerely hope you are not serious about us staying here. I am certain that this is some sort of wedding night prank on your part. Please tell me very quickly that this is supposed to be funny." 

"B . . . b . . . but ya said ya like theme rooms. Member, Kerri, ya both said ya like theme rooms?" Ray got as far away from Turnbull as possible, and in the obscene limo that had to be at least fifty yards, give or take a few yards.

Kerri was trying desperately not to laugh and cry at the same time. She shrugged her shoulders at Ray, giving him a 'don't look to me for help my friend, you got into this one all by yourself' look. Ray cringed as he realized he might have made just a little mistake here.

Meg, and Fraser to a lesser degree, both got a big kick out of Ray's terror in the face of Turnbull's anger. Ray had been Mister Smug all day, and now it was pay back time. Meg was actually surprised Turnbull had held his anger this long. She was sure it was because he didn't want to upset Kerri. The wedding had been so important to her, but now Vecchio was treading on Turnbull's turf, the honeymoon. So, yeah, Meg was getting a big kick out of this.

"Then you will give up your room, whereever that might be, and you will stay here." The teeth were definitely still clenched.

Even from fifty or so yards away, give or take, everyone could see Ray cringe. "Well, ya see that's kind of a problem. See, I gotta single room, cause I kinda thought, well I suspected, ya see I thought Fraze and Thatcher would wanna share--”

"Ray!" Meg and Ben shouted at him in unison, both saying only the one word, as embarrassment overtook them.

"Sorry," was all Ray could think to say. He was dumbfounded to hear laughter coming from the opposite end of the limo.

Kerri laughed hysterically. This was just too funny, she couldn't stand it anymore, she began to laugh and couldn't stop. Turnbull genuinely believed she was hysterical and rapidly became concerned that she would not be able to breathe. He tried to comfort her as he yelled at Ray. "Now see what you've done? You've taken what should have been the most memorable day of our lives and turned it into, into a circus! You idiot!"

Kerri stopped laughing immediately, shocked into silence by Renny's anger. This wasn't funny anymore. Renny loved Ray like the brother he’d never had, and this had to stop.

"Renfield Turnbull! Ray is not an idiot. Misguided, yes, but well intentioned. All of this, these preparations,” she waved her arms wildly around her, “he did it all for us." Now she was close to tears. "I can't let you be angry with him, Renny, he's been too good a friend to us," she looked around in the darkened car, "to all of us. Look, this is supposed to be my day, I'm the bride for God's sake! If I can forgive him, then the rest of you sure as hell can too." She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back into the velour seat, eyes daring any one to disagree with her.

There were several moments of silence before a small voice came through the growing darkness. "I'm sorry, Ray, I'm sorry I lost my temper and shouted at you."

Ray was so relieved, now he was close to tears. "I guess I deserved it. I'm just glad yer not mad anymore. But, ah," he hesitated to bring it up, "what about the, um, motel? There’s this bunch a conventions ‘n I don’t know if there’s any room . . ."

Kerri grabbed Renny's hand and scooted toward the door. "Honeymoon, here we come." Kerri ducked her head back into the car after Renny had climbed out, "don't call us . . . we'll call you." She giggled as she and Renny turned toward the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Waterbed Motel.

The three occupants of the rear of the limo glanced out the windows just as the car was pulling out of the driveway. They were just in time to see Constable Renfield Turnbull sweep her up into his arms and carry his new bride over the threshold of room four.

________________________________________________________

9th Piece

Once they were in the room and Renny had set his bride down, they took a look at their surroundings, and froze. In all her life Kerri would probably never regret anything as much as ever telling Ray that she liked the idea of theme rooms. When she was able to regain some movement in her body, she turned to Renny, and was instantly relieved that Ray was out of earshot and arm's reach. If he'd had been anywhere near them, Renny would not have been denied murderous retribution. 

The Hunka Hunka Burning Love Motel had ten rooms, each designed around a different motif, the motif of room number four being the prehistoric caveman. Ray had specifically requested "The Caveman Room". 

"Holy shit." 

Kerri was always surprised to hear Renny use profanity, but especially surprised to hear him sound so much like Ray. The problem was she had to agree with him.

Every where they looked there was stone. Stone chairs, with leopard skin throws, a stone table with a zebra striped phone, and a hopefully fake stone dresser. There was a mural on the wall behind the bed depicting dinosaurs standing in steamy surroundings. Fake plants lined the far wall, and a chemical fog machine created a misty environment against them. Vines hung from the ceiling, apparently for use if anyone felt like swinging over the leopard skin covered bed.

On the stone dresser lay two costumes, one looking as if it should belong to Tarzan and the other, of course, looking as if it should belong to Jane. When Renny finally could move again, he ventured into the bathroom. Kerri heard him laugh and then flush the toilet.

"Come here, you have got to see this!" 

Kerri was so relieved to hear him laugh she came running. Once again she stopped, frozen in her tracks.

The entire bathroom was made of stone, the walls, the floor and even the countertop, sink and toilet. What Renny was laughing at was the waterfall behind the toilet. Every time the toilet was flushed the waterfall was activated. There was another waterfall in the stone shower.

His eyes sparkled as he turned to Kerri. "This may be fun after all. Want to try on our night wear?" Kerri giggled as she handed him his Tarzan outfit. He wanted to surprise her, so he went back into the bathroom and closed the door.

Kerri put on her Jane suit without benefit of a mirror, but she was afraid she knew exactly what, or more precisely who, she looked like. When Renny emerged from the bathroom she was sure she knew.

She laughed so hard she almost hurt herself. "You look . . . look . . . look just like--"

"Fred Flintstone. First it was Larry, Moe or Curly. I’m getting awfully tired of looking like someone’s bad dream, Wilma! But look what I found behind the bathroom door.” He grinned broadly as he held up what must have been a Papier-mâché caveman’s club. “Please let me hit Ray over the head with this, just once? Please?” 

Kerri grinned back at him. “I’ll make you a deal. If you still want to hit him in the morning, then you can.” Kerri walked into his outstretched arms and he immediately forgot about the club and Ray and everything else in the world except the woman he loved so much.

When Renny finally released her, just long enough to remove the vestiges of Fred Flintstone, Kerri sat on the edge of the bed. Uh, oh. “Renny, didn’t you tell me once that you got sea-sick?”

“Oh, my yes. When we were on the replica of the HMS Bounty, I thought I might die from it, actually I would have preferred to die. Why do you ask?”

Kerri just sighed. “Well, then I think we have a problem.”

And so, avoiding the waterbed at all cost, Renny and Kerri spent their wedding night trying to, among other things, sleep on the floor.

________________________________________________________

10th Piece

Kerri groaned as she struggled to get up. She had stayed in many hotels, from five stars to no stars, but she had never, ever, slept on the floor of any of them. She made her way to the bathroom and grabbed the club. By the time she walked back into the bedroom, Renny was sitting on the floor rubbing his eyes. 

He grinned broadly as he watched her walk toward him. “Did you sleep well?”

She threw the club at him. “You have my permission to hit Ray over the head with this, as many times as you like.” 

Renfield wanted desperately to laugh, but instinctively knew that now was definitely not the time. “You should have slept in the bed . . . ”

She sighed as she perched on the edge of the stone chair and rubbed her back. “I didn’t want to spend my wedding night sleeping without you. Don’t grin at me! You may be used to sleeping on the ground, but I’m not. My back hurts!”

Renfield got up and stood behind her, gently kneading her sore muscles. “If you think I’ll be less angry at Ray just because you’re rubbing my . . . mmm . . . that’s . . . oh, yes . . . right there. Oh, that feels sooo good.” Kerri relented. “Okay, if you keep doing that forever you don’t have to hit Ray for me."

Renfield thought that was a very good idea, as he continued to rub her back. He smiled at the thought: his wife’s back.

________________________________________________________

11th Piece

The small group from Chicago rendezvoused in front of a small version of the Eiffel Tower at the Paris Hotel on Las Vegas Blvd. late that afternoon. Ray was immensely relieved to see both Turnbull and Kerri beaming again. Damn, they were cute, both looking so much like newlyweds. Ray bit his tongue to keep from making some kind of smart remark he knew he would live to regret.

“Hi, guys!” he grinned. “Sleep good?” That was a safe thing to say, right? Wrong!

Kerri stopped smiling and frowned at Renny as he glared at Ray. 

“What did I say? Huh, what?” Ray was totally confused.

Ever the diplomat, Fraser suggested they change the subject. “Why don’t we figure out what we want to see? We are tourists, you know.”

Meg stared at the hotel across the street. “I’ve heard the dancing waters in front of the Belagio are just beautiful. The brochure says every half-hour after 6pm. I vote for that later this evening.”

“I wanna do that roller coaster on the top a the Stratosphere.”

“I think you will probably be by yourself on that one Ray. But I might like to try the roller coaster in front of New York, New York. And I promised Kerri we would at least eat at the Excaliber.”

“Renny, are you sure a roller coaster is okay?”

“It's really just the motion of water that bothers me,” he whispered to Kerri, but Ray caught what he’d said.

“I’ve read about a very interesting attraction called the ‘Neon Museum’. I think that would be a very appropriate destination, Las Vegas being so famous for its neon signs.”

“Only my buddy, Fraze, would come ta Las Vegas ta see a museum. Okay, so we got one vote fer a water show, one vote fer a really good roller coaster, one vote fer a less good, but still good roller coaster, one vote fer a museum and,” he was almost afraid to ask, “whaddya wanna do Kerri?” He’d been sensing she was upset with him, and hoped she wasn’t going to say something like ‘throw Ray off the Eiffel Tower’. 

“I’d really like to see the old part of Las Vegas. I’ve heard there is something called the ‘Fremont Street Experience’. They took the old Vegas Strip and covered it over with millions of lights. They do a light show every so often, every night.”

Ray was immensely relieved. “Cool. So we got one vote fer a light show. So what should we do now?”

“Why don’t we take one of those trolleys up and down the strip, and we can get an overview of what there is to do, and then decide?”

By the end of the day, Saturday, everyone was exhausted. None of them had any idea there was so much to do in Las Vegas that didn’t involve gambling. Every where they went there were casinos, but other interesting things to do as well.

They marveled at the gorgeous white tigers at the Mirage and the huge lions at the MGM Grand. Near Caesar’s Palace, they came upon the Neptune’s Fountain light show. After they watched the dancing waters at the Belagio, Meg and Kerri gaped in the windows of the shops inside the hotel. On one of the city streets inside the Paris Hotel a vendor gave them all samples of freshly baked French bread.

By the time they got to the roller coaster at New York, New York all of them were exhausted. Ray never made it to the Stratosphere, and Kerri never saw the inside of the Excaliber. But they were happy, tired but happy. A fun day spent with friends, what more could they possible have wanted?

Standing in line, waiting for the tram to take them from the MGM to Bally’s, Ray found a moment to speak to Kerri without the others overhearing. “I kinda wanted ta talk ta ya all day. I’m real sorry bout all the stuff that’s happened. I really wanted the two of ya ta have a terrific wedding and honeymoon. I guess I really spoiled it. Turnbull was right, I’m a real idiot.”

“Ray, Renny didn’t mean that and you know it. Do you remember the time you picked me up at the airport and carried that darn giraffe for me to Renny’s apartment? You remember what you did after we walked in on Renny and . . . well, after? You stayed with me until you couldn’t help me anymore, and then you went right back to Renny. And you remember what you did when I was so sick after my hysterectomy? You stayed with Renny through all of that. You knew where I was, but you respected my wishes and just watched over him. You are many things Ray Vecchio, but you are not an idiot. You are the best friend any person could ever ask for.”

Ray grinned like an idiot.

They said goodnight where they had met earlier in the day, in front of the Paris Hotel. Meg, Fraser and Ray returned to their rooms at Mandalay Bay and Renny and Kerri returned to the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Waterbed - and Stone - Motel.

Once inside room four, Renny and Kerri were amazed to find the waterbed had been removed and a regular, normal, everyday, just like the rest of the world has, queen-sized bed had been installed in its place. Sometime during their busy day, Ray had found the time to contact the motel to request the change. Kerri was right about him being the best friend anyone could ask for. He got a little off course sometimes, but he was still the best.

Renny looked at the bed and smiled. He looked at the vines above the bed and smiled his patented ‘I’ve got a wonderful idea’ smile. Uh, oh.

________________________________________________________

12th Piece

Unlike the group from Chicago who were relaxing and enjoying the sites, Armando and Sheila spent Saturday watching their backs even more closely than usual. Sheila wasn’t sure he was going to make it. Seeing his friends from a former life had shaken Mandy badly. He had never discussed his past with her, by mutual agreement and because of the circumstances under which they existed. By the time Sheila entered Armando’s life he was under constant surveillance, by Angelo, by Nick, and by the FBI. 

Angelo suspected something, they were sure of it. Then again, sometimes they thought they might just be paranoid, they certainly had good reason. Sheila knew that the FBI didn’t really have Mandy’s best interests in mind either. Though she would never tell Mandy, she had been told more than once that bringing down the Iguana Family was infinitely more important than one man’s life. By this time in their relationship however, Sheila had long since stopped believing that.

Late Saturday afternoon, Mandy received a dinner summons. Angelo called to say they were ‘invited’ to his home that evening. The second in command from the Canadian Richelieu family had arrived early. They couldn’t risk his crossing the border anywhere near the others who were coming in, so this guy was smuggled across from British Colombia into the US at Porthill, Idaho. Potato farmers manned the border there, so crossing was a breeze.

Angelo’s invitations were not exactly invitations and were never declined. So, reluctantly, Mandy dug out his Versace tuxedo, and Sheila pulled her best red Valentino gown from its protective cover. Mandy often told her that red was her best color, it set off her auburn hair so nicely. Sheila didn’t particularly like this dress, but it was part of the Sheila LaRue persona. It was cut so low in the front that she felt ever man who saw her, really saw her, and cut so low in the back that she felt they could see her cleavage there as well. But it was Angelo’s favorite.

Angelo and Maria Morelli’s home was really little more than a showplace for wealth and poor taste. Although Sheila didn’t care for Armando Langoustini’s taste, she sure liked his house a lot more than Morelli’s. Armando and Sheila entered Morelli’s desert mansion at approximately the same time that Meg, Fraser, Kerri, Turnbull and Ray were watching the Belagio’s waters dancing to the ‘William Tell Overture’. 

“Oh my, Mrs. Morelli is this painting new? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it here before.” It had to be the most disgusting thing she had ever seen.

“How kind of you to notice, dear. Yes, my Angelo bought it on a recent business trip. It’s a Bryan, he paid three quarters of a million for it. It’s still not the most expensive one we own, of course, but it’s a nice addition don’t you think?” ‘You whore. If you so much as look at my Angelo I’ll scratch your eyes out,’ she thought as she smiled sweetly at the younger woman.

‘You old trout, get your eyes off of Mandy’s ass’, Sheila returned her sickening smile.

“Please come out on to the terrace, it’s beautiful out there, and our Canadian visitor is waiting.” It always amazed Mandy and Sheila how Angelo could say please and actually mean ‘do it now, or I will have someone blow you’re fuckin’ heads off’.

Sheila didn’t know how Mandy had survived this long under these circumstances.

“Sheila LaRue, Armando Langoustini allow me to introduce René Laurier.”

Even in the semi-darkness Sheila could see Mandy blanch. He obviously knew this man. Oh, shit!

________________________________________________________

13th Piece

The very tall, moderately inebriated man who stood to take Armando’s hand stared at him just briefly, before he turned to take an overly long, head to toe assessment of Sheila. “Langoustini.” He shook Mandy’s hand without ever taking his eyes off Sheila's breasts. “Ms. LaRue, may I say how lovely you are,” he commented, in slightly slurred, slightly French accent. “Are you by any chance French-Canadian? I’ve always thought the most beautiful women in the world were from Quebec.”

‘Screw you, you son of a bitch, you haven’t even seen me - from the neck up. Who is this guy, and are we dead here?’ Sheila smiled demurely as he took her hand to kiss it, her thoughts not betrayed by her expression. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Laurier, but I am American born and raised.” Sheila intentionally called him Mister rather than Monsieur.

That got his attention! He finally tore his gaze away from her chest and looked her in the eye. What she saw when he looked at her almost caused her to gasp. He was a very attractive man, with short sandy brown hair, a goatee and moustache, and a small, but prominent, scar just over his left eyebrow. But it was his eyes that caused Sheila to almost lose her composure. Blue eyes that were the hardest, cruelest eyes she had ever looked into. Their coldness made her shudder. She had always thought Angelo had mean eyes, well he had nothing on this guy. Sheila suddenly realized that Mandy had not said a word, and that Angelo was studying him intently.

“So, you are the infamous Bookman. Have you ever been to Quebec, Langoustini? You look vaguely familiar.” 

To Sheila’s immense surprise and eternal gratitude, Mandy found his voice. “No, sorry. I made one trip to New Jersey for Angelo a year or so ago, but otherwise I’ve never been east of the Mississippi. Why in the world would I want to leave beautiful surroundings like this?” The sun had just set and the dim twilight cast an ethereal glow on the desert.

“It is very beautiful here, but I don’t particularly enjoy the heat. I was recently a guest of the province in Ontario and it got very hot. Several guards attempted to force me to remain in the heat. I found it necessary to change their minds. Permanently.”

The lack of emotion in his voice made Sheila sick to her stomach. This man was talking about killing other human beings the same way most people would talk about swatting a fly.

“When did you break out?” Mandy asked. Sheila silently let out a deep breath, Mandy was okay.

“Several weeks ago. Does anyone mind if I smoke?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he lit up.

A butler brought them more Dom Perignon and they sat silently for several minutes.

“I see what you mean about your desert Langoustini, it is very relaxing here.” Mandy made sure Laurier’s glass was never empty. Getting him really wasted was the only possible way of getting out of here alive.

“Laurier assumed his place in the Richelieu Family when his father was killed. Did they ever discover who killed him?” Angelo asked.

Laurier laughed loudly. “No, and I hope they never do . . .”

“You killed your father?” Sheila couldn’t help herself, she was so shocked she just blurted it out.

Laurier laughed. “He wasn’t my father, he just married my bitch of a mother. My father lives in British Columbia somewhere. Haven’t been able to get her to tell me where. Someday she’ll spill it.”

Both Mandy and Sheila cringed at the thought of how this man might force his mother to talk. 

Even Maria Morelli wanted to change the subject. She knew that her two sons wanted to grow up just like their daddy, and the thought that this man, so much like her husband, might just hurt his mother, well, she just didn’t want to think about it. “Do you have other family in Quebec, Mr. Laurier?” She also used Mister, not to be rude, but because she was completely socially inept.

It had obviously been some time since Laurier had consumed much alcohol, because he was becoming very drunk, very quickly. He laughed again. “The bitch told me I gotta brother . . . a twin brother . . . believe that? She always says he's . . . the better . . . some day I'll sh . . . show . . .”

Just as Armando thought he might pass out from fear, Laurier beat him to it. If he had been so inclined, Armando might have actually felt sorry for the man. He’d had a busy few weeks. Broken out of prison, killed who knew how many guards, made it half-way across Canada, been smuggled over the border, just to pass out on Angelo Morelli’s terrace. And now Angelo would be pissed at him for being so rude. Poor man, life can be such a bitch!

Maria Morelli’s evening was ruined, and Mandy and Sheila were thrilled. She had the maid, whose name she could never remember, pack them some food to take with them and Maria went to bed with a sick headache. After Mandy and Sheila were safely out of the house, Angelo, who didn’t give a shit what her name was, went to bed with the maid.

________________________________________________________

14th Piece

Since they were just going to Angelo’s, it had not been necessary to bring the limo, or Nick. Armando was able to drive the car about a mile from the mansion before he could go no further.

He pulled the Porsche up to the curb and turned off the engine. He then slumped in the seat and let his head fall to the steering wheel. Sheila was so afraid of what he would say she couldn’t even ask.

They sat that way for several minutes. Finally she couldn’t stand it any more. “You knew him, didn’t you?”

Mandy’s answer was very slow in coming. “Yeah, and when he wakes up in the morning and his head clears he’s gonna remember me. I don’t look quite the same, what with the moustache and being so skinny, but he’ll remember. He tried to kill me once, and did kill my baby--”

Sheila gasped. “No, not a kid, my car. Had to blow it up to get away from him. He and his buddies were chasing us. That old guy with him must have been his dad, step-dad. Shit, Turnbull’s got a twin! He’s right here in the same city with him, and he doesn’t even know it. Jesus, Sheila, this is a mess. I can’t even think what we need to do--”

“First, who’s Turnbull? One of your friends from Chicago?”

“Yeah, he’s a Mountie. But not like Fraser, he’s a clueless simpleton.” Mandy was starting to mutter and Sheila was becoming more and more alarmed.

“It seems to me that he must have something on the ball if he became a Mountie. I thought those guys were like Superman or something.”

The word ‘Superman’ got right through to Mandy. “Yeah, well Fraser acts like he is . . .”

“He’s a very good friend, isn’t he?”

“How do--”

“You talk in your sleep, about someone named Fraser and how you’re always telling him to stop. Are he and Benny your best friends?”

Mandy could only smile. “You could say that. They’re the same person.”

Well, that certainly explained a lot of things. “We need some help, Mandy. Do you think they’d help us?”

He rubbed his hands over his almost non-existent hair. “In a heartbeat, but I don’t know if they’re still here, or where they’re staying if they are here.” In the darkness she could see his hands shaking.

“I think I know how we can find out, Dottie McDonald.”

“Who’s--”

“She used to work at the PassionFlower, a long time ago. She’s a good friend of Sadie’s, and her husband’s the guy who owns the ‘Graceland Chapel’. She might just be able to help us.”

A couple of phone calls was all it took. Sheila found out that Turnbull was the groom, and the happy couple was staying at Dottie’s motel, the Hunka Hunka Burning Love.

About thirty minutes later Armando and Sheila were at the registration desk. The clerk, a pimply lad of about sixteen, didn’t want to give them any information, until Sheila removed her wrap. 

‘Shit! Those gotta be the biggest set a knockers in the world, hell never even seen em that big in the movies. Wait ‘til the guys hear about this!’ His thoughts made him smile, and smiling gave him yet another idea, maybe he’d even tell the guys she’d given him a feel. 

“They’re not here, I know cause I’ve been here all day and ain’t nobudy come in since they left, 'bout two or so.” He had to wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Did they happen to say if they were meeting friends?” Sheila purred at him as she changed positions to give him a better view.

“No, but a guy called this afternoon, said ta take the waterbed outta room four ‘n put in a queen-sized regular bed. He said ta send the charges ta, um, yeah here it is, Ray Vetcho at the Mandalay Bay."

Sheila patted his face and purred at him again. “Thanks so much for your help. You’re such a nice young man. Now stop thinking of women as sex objects, and grow up!” 

Sheila turned on her heel and marched out of the office. He gaped, mouth open, after her. ‘Lord fuck a duck, her ass is almost as good as the tits.’

The next stop was the nearest pay phone. The cell phone in the car was not an option.

Sheila placed the call and asked for the room of Benton Fraser. No Benton Fraser registered. She panicked momentarily, but Mandy took up the slack. “Ask for Ray Vecchio or Meg Thatcher.”

Bingo, the operator asked which room she wanted. Mandy hesitated briefly. He’d seen the way Benny had looked at Thatcher. Things had changed since he’d been gone. “Meg Thatcher, ask for her room.”

Sheila handed him the phone and watched him closely. If any thing happened here, if his friends wouldn’t help, it would literally destroy him. “Benny? God, Benny we’re in trouble, we need you’re help. Carrow’s on Las Vegas Blvd, next to the New York, New York, twenty minutes. And Benny? Bring Turnbull, it’s important. Thanks, Benny.”

The whole conversation took exactly three minutes. “No questions, no hesitation?” He just shook his head. Sheila was so relieved she almost passed out.

Mandy hung up the phone very slowly and broke down. Sheila didn’t know what to do, there was just no time for this. “Mandy, we’ve got to move.” She put her arms around him. “Please, you’ve got to pull yourself together. Let’s go, I’ll drive.”

Mandy rapidly gained control of himself. “I’m sorry, it’s just . . . it was so good to talk to him. Just to hear his voice. He knew exactly how to react. That’s why I love him so much. I walked out on him, never even got a chance to really say goodbye, and he responded like I’d never been gone.”

“He’s a good friend, with his help we should be able to figure out something.”

________________________________________________________

15th Piece

Sheila was shocked to see the large group of people who waited for them at Carrow’s Restaurant. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw René Laurier sitting in a booth with the rest of Mandy’s friends. As soon as she recovered from the initial shock she realized that this guy must be the twin brother, hopefully the ‘good’ twin, the man Mandy had referred to as Turnbull.

Armando smiled. God bless him, Benny had saved places for them at a huge table in the back, where they could not be seen from the street. No one spoke until they were seated. “Hiya, Benny.”

Fraser could not believe the change in Ray, he looked . . . beaten. “Hello, Ray. You know Inspector Thatcher and Constable Turnbull. This is Ray, ah, Stan Kowalski and Kerri Turnbull.”

Armando took the hand of the man who had covered for him for almost two years. “I’ve seen your picture, you don’t look anything like me.”

“’N I’ve seen yer picture, you don’t look anything like you.” 

Armando tried his damnedest to smile. It looked to him like Benny had been in good hands.

“I’m Sheila LaRue--”

“Jeez, Sheila, sorry. Meet Agent Sheila LaRue, FBI.” Everyone at the table was shocked that the young woman, who looked like her mother should take her over her knee for the life she was leading, was actually an agent.

“Ray, you said you were in trouble, we’re here to help.”

“Correction, everyone except Kerri. She's only here because she threatened to kill me if I left her in that motel.” Kerri jammed her elbow in Renny’s ribs. 

“First of all, it’s very important that you all refer to me as Armando.” He sighed as he looked at Benny. More than anything else in the world he longed to hear Benny call him ‘Ray’ again. “I’m sorry man, but I don’t have time to be anything but blunt. Turnbull, did you know you have a brother? A twin brother?”

Renfield thought he was kidding. Of course he didn’t have a brother, he had no siblings. His mother had died when he was young, and his father had never remarried. “Armando, you are mistaken. I don’t have a brother, twin or otherwise, I’ve always wished I did, but--”

“Well, you got your wish buddy. He’s at Angelo Morelli’s place right now, sleeping off a drunk. Benny, remember Ian MacDonald and Danny Brock and his guys that were chasing us? When you made me shoot my car?” After all this time it still saddened him to think he had to blow up his baby. 

Fraser’s eye went wide with the realization. “Laurier! I don’t know that I ever knew his first name. Of course, Turnbull with a goatee and moustache! I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.” Fraser thought he must have really been losing his edge. To miss something so obvious was totally unacceptable! At least he was still observant enough to notice Ray’s, correction, Armando’s hand shake as he took a sip from his glass of water.

The waitress came by to take their order, but no one was interested in eating, except for Sheila. “We’ll split a club sandwich with extra fries--”

“I’m not hungry--”

“Mandy, you’ve got to eat. We haven’t had anything since last night.” She dismissed the waitress with a wave of her hand. “We were at a dinner party when all this hit the fan.”

“Thought ya was a little flashy fer a coffee shop.” Ray couldn’t help but stare at Sheila’s - dress. And Fraser couldn’t help but stare at Armando.

Fraser knew that when the real Ray Vecchio returned from his undercover assignment there would be changes in him but looking at Armando now caused his heart to break. He searched the man’s face and then his eyes. He just could not find Ray anywhere. All he saw was the broken man who was Armando Langoustini.

“Excuse me a minute.” Armando left to find the men’s room, and all eyes turned to Sheila.

________________________________________________________

16th Piece

Sheila knew she needed to explain, and quickly. “We’ve been trying to get out of there for months. There’s this big international meet day after tomorrow, and the Bureau wants Mandy there for one last operation. I just don’t know if he can do it, being undercover with these animals for so long has completely used him up. He’s lost himself, there’s no Ray Vecchio left.” Sheila was close to the breaking point herself, and they all could see it. Her hands trembled as she attempted to brush her hair out of her eyes. “All I know is when he saw you all standing outside the ‘Graceland’ yesterday, he kind of fell apart. And then tonight, God, we couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“Laurier obviously didn’t recognize him.” Meg interjected.

“No, but he’d been drinking, and he was,” she hesitated briefly. These people were trained police officers and they were Mandy’s friends. She wanted desperately to impress them. “He was pretty much occupied with looking at me.” For the first time since leaving the operating room in Virginia she was embarrassed by her body. “As soon as his head clears and he gets a good look at Mandy, he’ll remember. He's looked at him kind of oddly already.”

“It seems to me that we have only two options, pull Armando out now or . . . I need to take Laurier’s place.” Turnbull spoke just as Armando returned to the table.

“I can’t pull out so close to wrapping this up, and, ah, thanks for the offer man, but these guys are the big time. I don’t think--”

“Armando, you've been gone for quite some time and have not been privy to the changes in Constable Turnbull. Believe me, he is well up to the task.” Turnbull was so proud at Fraser’s compliment he thought he might burst with pride.

“You sure, Turnbull? It isn’t gonna be easy.” Turnbull nodded at Armando as Kerri cringed. “Okay then. Now we’ve got to figure out how to get him out of Morelli’s house, and how to get Turnbull in--”

“Leave that to me.” All eyes turned to Sheila. “I’ll just Pied Piper him to the PassionFlower.”

“Translation please?” Fraser wondered if she were speaking some form of English peculiar to the US West Coast. 

“I could tell by the way he looked at me, once he wakes up, he’s gonna want to get his hands on me. I’ll just have him follow me to the PassionFlower Hotel. Sunday’s a really slow day there. I’ll have Sadie turn her head. René Laurier walks in, Constable Turnbull playing René Laurier walks out. You a good actor, Constable?”

Turnbull blushed slightly and then smiled shyly. “I’ve had some experience, yes.”

Once again Fraser marveled at the changes in Turnbull. He was actually rather proud that Turnbull considered him his mentor. “Good, that gets Armando off the hook for a little while, but what about when the rest of the Richelieu Family shows up?”

“Leave that part to us." Armando felt almost like the old Ray Vecchio, working with Benny again. "We can call down the FBI two minutes after the families arrive. Turnbull won't have fool the Richelieu family for more than ten minutes.”

"FBI any smarter here then in Chicago?" Ray suddenly realized there was an FBI agent sitting right next to him. "Present company excepted, 'course." 'Shit, that's me, open mouth, insert boot.' Ray cringed to himself.

Sheila just smiled. "I think we can count on them." 

Everyone stopped talking as the waitress brought the food. All of them watched as Sheila silently allowed Armando to polish off all of the sandwich and fries. She smiled to herself as she realized he finally felt safe again. For the first time in two years, Mandy could relax just a little. 

She really liked Mandy's friends. They were so ready to jump into a dangerous situation, and they obviously cared about him very much. She also watched Constable Turnbull. Mandy had called him a 'clueless simpleton'. She sure didn't sense that about him. She also saw none of his brother in him . . . he may have looked exactly like René Laurier, but he sure didn't act like him.

________________________________________________________

17th Piece

They stayed at the coffee shop until the wee hours of the morning, strategizing over their plans for the next day or so. Sheila would lure Laurier to the PassionFlower, and Ray and Fraser would apprehend him. He would be bound and gagged and left in Sadie’s room in the hotel. 

After he was secured Armando would let Angelo know that Laurier was at his house for the rest of the day, and night. Armando and Sheila assured the rest of the group that that wouldn’t be a problem, since Angelo was already pissed at the Canadian for spoiling the dinner party.

When they had discussed and dissected all contingencies and then discussed and dissected them a second and third time, they left for what was left of the night.

__________

Renfield and Kerri returned to their motel different people than when they left. Neither of them spoke during the taxi ride back or until long after Renny had closed their door behind them.

Kerri perched on the side of the bed, scared out of her mind as Renny paced. He continued to pace and run his hand through his hair for several minutes. Finally, she could stand it no longer.

“Renny, please say something?”

He turned to stare at her for several moments. When he finally spoke the anger in his voice scared her even more. “Why didn’t I know? Why didn’t they tell . . . how could they have . . . kept it away from me? I have a brother, for God’s sake, and I didn’t know it! My mother died when I was twelve, where was he . . . My father didn’t -- God, Kerri maybe he’s not my real father, maybe I’m not even a Turnbull, maybe my name is Laurier, or Smith, or . . . Damn, I don’t even know who I am any more! How could they have kept that from me? A twin, someone who is exactly like me. Why, Kerri, why would they do that?”

Kerri went to him and hugged him tightly. “I don’t know. I don’t know,” she whispered. “When this is all over we’ll go to Vancouver. Your dad will tell you, Renny, we’ll ask him to tell us. Please don't be angry with him, you don't know the facts.” When he did not respond to her embrace she reluctantly released him. 

“It's going to be a long couple of days. I need to get some rest, I’m going to bed. You can stay up if you want.” What Kerri wanted was to drop to the floor and weep. Renny was inviting her out of their honeymoon bed.

But for the first time since they had been together, Renny did not care how Kerri was feeling, all he could think about was how he felt. For the first time since they had known each other, Kerri knew she couldn’t reach him. She couldn’t even imagine what he was going through, or how to help him deal with it.

And for the first time since they had been together, Kerri lay next to Renny with tears in her eyes, scared that something would happen and he would not come back to her, and terrified that when he did come back he would not be the same Renfield Turnbull. 

And this was just the second night of their marriage.

________________________________________________________

18th Piece

Fraser held Meg tightly in his arms while she slept and stared at the ceiling he could barely see. But he wasn’t really looking at the ceiling, all he could see was Ray’s face. What was it that Sheila had said, that Ray had been used up? Fraser knew that to be true. When he looked into Langoustini’s eyes, there was just no Ray there.

He thought of Turnbull’s reaction to the revelation that he had a brother, a brother who was, among other things, a murderer. Turnbull was so proud of how far he had come, and what he had done with himself in the last year. How in the world would he deal with this?

And Kerri, her dreams of a fairytale wedding and romantic honeymoon dashed against the stone that made up that ridiculous motel room. Fraser had been looking at her when Turnbull volunteered to take Laurier’s place. She had been terrified, but she had remained silent, knowing full well that she could never talk him out of it, even if she had wanted to. That dear woman, trying to be so strong in the face of a world that had suddenly gone mad.

She was learning far too quickly just how terrifying it could be to love someone whose job could put them in life threatening situations at a moment’s notice. He shifted slightly on his side and watched Meg as she slept. A lesson he knew only too well.

________________________________________________________

19th Piece

Sheila and Mandy spent the rest of the night sitting under the stars by the pool. Neither one of them could believe this all might finally be coming to an end. The change that was slowly coming over Mandy was astonishing. Sheila found it amazing that he could draw so much strength from his Chicago friends, especially Constable Fraser.

She didn’t know much about Fraser, and after meeting him, she didn’t feel she needed to know much. He just seemed to have exactly what Mandy needed. She remembered how she had wondered if his friends would help him. Mandy had never doubted for a minute that they’d be there. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had a friend like that. She thanked God that Mandy had seen them standing on that street corner . . . dear God, was that less than two days ago?

“What are you thinking about?”

“What do you think? What I’m gonna wear to Angelo’s next dinner party, silly!”

“Angelo’s next party will probably be held at Sing Sing.”

“God bless him.” Sheila didn’t say anything else for several moments. She wasn’t sure how to say what was in her heart. “You know, you’ve got some great friends. How come you didn’t tell me Fraser was such a hunk? He’s – yummy!”

“Yummy? Give me a break!” Mandy smiled, same old Fraser, had to beat em off with a stick.

“I’m gonna miss you, Mandy. I’m glad this is finally gonna be over, but I’ll miss you.”

“Maybe you could come to Chicago?”

Both of them knew that that would never happen. “I can’t get hooked up with you, you’re, you're . . . like . . . old!” Both of them laughed, and then held hands as they silently pondered the future without Nick, Angelo, the PassionFlower – and each other.

__________

Like the others, Ray couldn't sleep. But, unlike the others, he was spending the night alone. He was always acutely aware of his solitary existence, but never more so than this night. "Damn," he muttered as he punched his pillow, "sure'd be nice ta have someone soft ta talk to!"

He'd come to terms with the oneness of his life, kind of. After Jeanette left he even felt rather good about himself. It was okay to be a single guy, sort of. But he had watched Turnbull and Fraser and even Langoustini, he found it very hard to think of him as Ray Vecchio, at the coffee shop. He had seen how each man relied on the woman in his life for support and comfort. He'd seen how Kerri had given Turnbull's hand a reassuring squeeze when Langoustini told him about his brother. He'd seen Sheila force Langoustini to eat both his part of the meal and hers, ensuring that he kept up his strength. And he'd even noticed Fraser and Meg holding hands under the table when they thought no one was looking.

He searched his soul and was pleased to find that he was happy for them, they deserved whatever happiness they could find. He was no longer jealous of what they had found, but he was still lonely. He still loved Kerri, but he loved the rest of them too. Damn it, he even loved Meg. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Fraser was his best friend, and Meg had made a hell of a lot of difference in Fraser's life. 

He was sorry that his plans for Turnbull and Kerri's wedding had not turned out the way they had hoped, and desperately sorry that the honeymoon had turned from a disaster into a nightmare. And he was scared that something would go wrong with their plans for the next couple of days, and someone would be hurt, or worse. He and his friends would be in harm's way, and just as with all the other dangerous assignments he'd had in his career, it scared him.

He worried, too, about what would happen to him now that Ray Vecchio, the real one, not his cheap imitation of him, was going be coming back to town. 'Shit, from a lonely, but okay life, ta no life, all in one day. Kowalski, ya really do suck.' From somewhere deep inside him, his soul he guessed, he knew that that was not true. Fraser, Turnbull, Kerri and even Thatcher would still be his friends, no matter who he was. 

“God? Ya there? Ya gotta protect them, cause they're my friends and . . . and they're good people,” he prayed as he punched his pillow in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

Like his friends, Ray slept very little, and worried quite a lot.

________________________________________________________

20th Piece

About noon on Sunday Sheila called Sadie.

"Hiya, Momma Sadie. How ya been?"

"Doin' great honey, whatcha need?"

"A big time favor fer me 'n Mandy. I need ya to leave for the rest a the day, no questions asked. Kin ya do that fer me?"

"No questions?" Sadie wasn't so sure she liked this, she knew all about Langoustini and the stuff he was involved in. ‘I don’t want no illegal stuff goin' on in my place. I gotta understandin' with the cops,’ she thought, as she hesitated to answer.

"Nothin's gonna happen that'll get ya in trouble. Promise."

"Fer you 'n Mandy?" She hesitated awhile longer and then sighed. "Fer Langoustini, I don’t know, but fer you, okay. I can go 'n stay at Dottie's place, I could use a night away. Ya need the whole house empty? Only one around is Chantal, and she's not due back til, well she's with Billy Jack, so she won't be back til real late, if at all. When ya need me ta go?"

"Soon?"

"Ya got it kiddo, I make like a tree and get on outta here. Night alone in a motel'll do me some good. You two gonna be okay? You've been lookin' a little poorly lately. Don't let that Langoustini bring ya down. Girl's gotta take care a herself, ain't no one else gonna do it!"

"Thanks, Sadie, we owe ya big time."

Sheila hung up the phone and turned to Mandy. "She's gonna, er, going to leave soon, and the hotel will be empty until late tonight or early tomorrow morning. You can stash Laurier in her room, and no one will ever know the difference. Tomorrow we can turn him over to Mullins or one of his agents."

"Let's get back to the house and wait for the evil twin to call." Sheila and Mandy returned from Sunday Mass only a few minutes later than usual. One place Nick never followed them was to church. Armando knew Nick believed that the roof would fall in on him if he ever ventured near a house of worship. And Armando also knew that Nick was right.

By early Sunday afternoon, Sheila's prediction came true, Laurier was looking for her. She knew Angelo would tell him how to contact her, because she was sure that Angelo would like to see Langoustini beat the shit out of the Canadian. No one spoiled a Morelli dinner party and got away with it.

Nero took the call and eyed her suspiciously as he handed her the phone. Nick suspected every move Mandy made, but Nero was extremely protective of his boss. Nick may have worked for Angelo, but Nero worked for Mandy.

For that reason Sheila liked him a lot. Mandy could trust Nero. She did have to get rid of him however, since she didn't want to complicate an already complicated situation by having Nero try to stop her from seeing Laurier. "Thanks, that'll be all."

"Hello? Why yes, René, of course I remember you. How nice of you to call," she used her sweetest voice and thought she might die from disgust. "Why, René, you naughty boy," she giggled. God, she thought she might puke. "Weeeellllll, sure I'd like to see you, but I don't know. Mandy's not here right now, but this is probably not the best place for us to meet." She hesitated briefly and came up with a 'marvelous idea'. "Oooo, I know!" She giggled again. "There's this house where I used to work. It's called the PassionFlower Hotel, and I know it won't be busy today, all the girls get Sunday off, in case they want to go to church and confess their . . . sins." She giggled seductively. "Mmmmm, we could have the whole place to ourselves, there are lots of toys there to play with.

“Here? No, I don’t think that’s such a good idea . . . you're where?" Sheila about dropped the phone. This guy wasn't like anyone she had ever dealt with, he was almost . . . inhuman. He was sitting right outside, parked across the street, and wanted to come in and have sex with her. In Langoustini’s own house! It was like he wanted Langoustini to catch them. And she didn't even want to know how he knew where they lived. She took a deep breath so she could think straight. "No, honey you can't come in, there are servants here. I’ll meet you there in an hour. Byeee.”

Sheila hung up the phone by the pool and turned to see Nick leering at her. He’d heard every word. She smiled broadly and brushed past him as if nothing were amiss, Turnbull’s cover firmly established in Nick’s mind.

________________________________________________________

21st Piece

Sheila took the Porsche and drove to the PassionFlower, watching to see if she was being followed. When she finally determined that both Nick and Nero were going to leave her alone, she breathed a sigh of relief. Laurier could walk into a trap without any assistance from either of them. 

Fraser, Ray and Turnbull were already at the house when she arrived. The only thing to do now was wait.

Laurier arrived right on time. Fraser couldn't help but think that he was just like his brother, and he reprimanded himself for the thought.

Sheila answered the impatient knocking and had to fight him off just to close the door. "Jeez, René, slow down," she purred at him. "We got lots a time. Come on over ta my old room, I left lots a fun stuff ta play with in there." Sheila wondered how this man was ever successful in a life of crime, he was letting her lead him around by the . . . nose, so to speak. Sheila opened the door and stepped out of the way.

Fraser, Ray and Turnbull were ready for him, but just not quite ready enough. Laurier reacted in an instant, and the rest of the occupants of the room were unprepared for the savagery with which he reacted. The man responded like a cornered wild animal.

A fierce struggle ensued as Laurier fought ferociously to get away while the three other men attempted to restrain him. Ray went flying across the bed and Fraser into a nightstand. It was only when he came face to face with Turnbull that Laurier, fist raised to smash the face that looked just like his, hesitated just long enough for Ray and Fraser to subdue him.

He struggled against their hold on him without ever taking his eyes off Turnbull's face. "So you're him, the other one." The sight of the clean-shaven, clean-cut image of himself made him sick. "Jesus, I hope I don't really look like you, what a pussy! You make me ill." Laurier spat in his brother's face. 

Turnbull's eyes never left his brother's as he slowly wiped his face. Ray saw a very strange look pass over his face before Turnbull turned to leave the room. It was only then that Ray noticed that the key for room four at the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Motel had fallen from Turnbull's pocket.

Ray tried in vain to lighten Turnbull's mood. "Turnbull yer key's on the floor. Kerri'll be awful disappointed if you can't get in tonight."

Fraser frowned deeply as he watched Laurier study the key and fob for the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Waterbed Motel that lay on the floor at his feet. He frowned even more deeply as he realized that Laurier was absorbing every word that was said and every move that they made. Fraser made very sure that the duck tape they used to secure their captive was extra tight.

"Isn't there a Canadian actor that says ya can use this duck tape stuff fer anythin'? Huh, Laurier?"

"Do you have any idea who I am, and what kind of trouble you have just bought yourselves?"

"You are a convicted felon, who recently escaped from a maximum security prison in Ontario, a murderer, a drug runner, and a known Mafia boss, you--"

"God, can't you get him to shut up?" Laurier pleaded with Ray.

"Sorry, ya know how Canadians are, once they get goin'--"

Laurier laughed maniacally. “The Mountie!” He laughed again, “I should have realized. And you’re a cop.” He spat the words at Ray. “Had to have help, huh? Can’t snag one lowly Canadian by yourself? Shit, no American cop could ever hold me.” He frowned in thought, “is the other one, the pussy, a Mountie too?”

Ray felt like spitting right back at him, instead he took a four-inch piece of duck tape and slapped it firmly over Laurier’s mouth.

“Gee, I guess it is possible ta shut up a Canadian.”

________________________________________________________

22nd Piece

While Ray and Fraser visited with their guest, Turnbull went with Sheila to prepare to take Laurier's place. Sheila could tell the man was completely shaken. She took his hand and pulled him down the hall. "Come on Constable, there's enough theatrical makeup in this joint to supply the cast of Cats." Sheila suddenly found that very funny. "Hey, I made kind of a joke. Cats, cat house? Get it?" She wasn't even sure the Constable had heard her. They found a stash of makeup, and Sheila began to work.

Sheila was sickened by Turnbull's reaction to seeing the man who was his double, physically at least. He seemed so completely confused and disheartened. He was younger than the rest of Mandy's friends, as she felt she could relate to him just a little better than the rest. "You really didn't know about him?" When he did not answer she continued, "there's got to be a good explanation, ya know? Your folks still alive?"

Turnbull responded as if he were on autopilot. "My father lives in Vancouver."

"Give him a chance, huh? Don't jump to any conclusions or make any rash decisions until you talk to him, okay?" Sheila was working on giving Turnbull a prominent scar over his eyebrow, and watched closely for any changes in his eyes.

"That's what Kerri said," he responded again with the same emotionless voice.

"Smart lady. Look, Renfield, your dad raised a really great guy. For some reason he felt he couldn't tell you about Laurier. Give him a chance. Ask him before you condemn him."

Turnbull looked at her and sighed. "You're right, I guess. This is just very hard for me, I have always believed in honor and, and upholding the law. To meet someone who is just like me, but believes, and lives just the opposite, it's . . . it's just so hard . . . "

Sheila stopped the application of the false moustache and took a hold of his chin. "You get something straight right now buster, that man may look like you, but he is NOT you. He is nothing like you here," she tapped on his chest, "inside, where it counts. I've watched you with your friends, you're kind and decent and you obviously love your wife very much. You are nothing like that lecherous creep in the other room."

Turnbull smiled slightly. "Am I supposed to say 'thanks, I needed that?"

"Nah, you're supposed to shut up and stay still so I can make this stuff look like the real thing."

When Sheila was done she handed him a mirror and they both shuddered, René Laurier’s reflection stared back at them. Sheila called Meg to let her know phase one had been successful.

________________________________________________________

23rd Piece

With Laurier tucked safely away at the PassionFlower, they could relax just a little. Turnbull went with Sheila back to Langoustini’s house and Ray and Fraser hung around the main room of the hotel playing cards. Their next meeting at Carrow's was scheduled in a few hours.

Meg waited at the motel with Kerri. It was hard for her to not be more involved as their plan unfolded, but she really felt it was important for her friend not to be left alone. She was becoming very concerned, and just wasn't sure what to do about how Kerri was acting. She was putting up a brave front, but Meg could tell she was scared to death. Worry came part and parcel with being married to a cop, and Kerri knew that. The problem was that Meg could not get her to talk about it. She knew Kerri very well, and knew she firmly believed in not holding things in. She'd tried that after her miscarriage, and it had almost been her undoing. Now Kerri prided herself on being able to bring her feelings out in to the open, with her friends and especially with Turnbull.

But not this time. Kerri flatly refused to talk about anything with Meg, so they sat in the ridiculous motel room watching Sunday evening television. Finally, when Meg had had as much of home improvement shows as she could take, she decided to force the issue.

"Look, you have been my best friend for quite awhile, and we've been though a lot of stuff together. I want you to tell me what you're feeling." Meg pursed her lips as Kerri shook her head. "I am not going to let you off the hook here. Renfield is a highly trained professional. I can't believe I'm actually saying this about him, but he knows what he's doing, and he'll be okay. Ray, er, Langoustini is with him, not to mention Sheila, who is young," 'too damn young', she thought, "but obviously knows what she's doing. I'm not going to tell you he's not in danger, but that's part of his job. You know that--" 

Meg jumped as Kerri turned an angry face toward her. "You think I'm scared because Renny might get hurt? Okay, sure, that's part of it. I'll always worry about him with all the bad guys in the world. But that's part of loving him, I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is the way he looked when he found out that Laurier, the way it hurt him to know that someone so evil was his brother, his TWIN brother. And the way it hurt him to realize his father, a man he idolizes, has lied to him all his life! He told me he didn’t know who he was any more . . . And I can't deal with," she gasped for air, "I can't deal with the fact that the Renny that came with me to Las Vegas is not the same Renny that will leave with me! He's hurting again and he's shut me out. He won't let me help. God, he wouldn't even let me touch him last night. I just can't stand--"

"God, Kerri, give him a chance! He's got a lot to process right now. Let him get through this impersonation first, then you can help him deal with the rest. It's really not fair to him to expect him to be able to deal with it all at once. He'll be okay . . . even with this. He's got you. He'll--"

Meg was cut off by a knock on the door. Fraser and Ray left Laurier tightly secured at the hotel and had arrived to take Meg and Kerri to Carrow's.

Kerri shook her head as Ray motioned for her to follow them. "You all go ahead, Renny won't be there, and I'd just as soon wait here, in case he calls." They all knew that was not going to happen. The plan was for Turnbull to stay at Langoustini's house and keep Nick occupied. Angelo was suddenly much more concerned with keeping an eye on Laurier than on Mandy and Sheila. They were pretty much free to come and go as they pleased. 

Turnbull had insinuated himself into Nick's good graces very quickly. Nick especially liked this Laurier guy because he believed he was getting it on with Sheila. Nick hated Langoustini and loved the fact his lady was cheating on him.

"Kerri, Turnbull'd have our heads if he thought we'd left ya alone."

"I'm not going Ray, and that's that." Kerri went over and sat on a stone chair to watch more television.

"You guys gimme a minute?" Fraser and Meg left the room as Ray went over to talk to Kerri.

"Please don't shut us out? Turnbull's gonna be okay . . . " Kerri started to interrupt, but Ray wouldn't give her the chance. "I don't mean about the impersonation stuff, I mean about the havin' a brother stuff. I know yer worried bout him, so am I. But he's a big boy . . . a really big boy. He'll deal."

Kerri smiled at her friend. "You know how mad I was at you for booking the wedding at that chapel?"

"Yeah." Ray sighed as he realized she was finally going to let him off the hook.

"Well, I still am, and you still owe me!" She frowned at him for just a moment and then broke into a big smile. "I love you Ray Stan Vecchio Kowalski. And I'm going to stay here just in case Renny calls."

Ray had seen that look, and he knew there was no arguing with it, or her. "Yer sure? Well, just add it ta the list a things the big guy is gonna kill me for. Ya want us ta bring ya somethin' back? They got great fries."

"Sure. How about ham on rye, fries and a shake?"

He kissed her on the cheek. "Keep eatin' like that an Turnbull's gonna dump ya fer bein' fat . . . 'n I just love fat chicks." She grinned as she pushed him away. "Don't answer the door fer no one, 'cept me? Got it? Ya gotta promise, or I'll drag you outta here, kickin' and screamin'."

"I promise. Now go."

And so Laurier was alone at the PassionFlower, and Kerri was alone at the Hunka Hunka Burning Love.

________________________________________________________

24th Piece

They had planned this operation to the nth degree, they had taken into consideration Angelo's reaction to Laurier, Laurier's interest in Sheila, Nick's reaction to Sheila’s supposed involvement with Laurier, even what they would do to ensure that the PassionFlower was available.

What they could not have planned for, or have foreseen, was the huge fight that Chantal had with Billy Jack that evening, or the key for room four of the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Waterbed Motel that had fallen from Turnbull's pocket and lay at Laurier's feet while he was being restrained by Ray.

Chantal stormed into the Hotel fit to be tied with Billy Jack. ‘That man! What an asshole, thinkin' cause I’m a workin' girl I could be treated like that! See if I ever gave him anythin' for free, ever again.’ She slammed the door and marched through the front room in search of Momma Sadie's shoulder to cry on.

When she burst into Sadie's room she got the most pleasant surprise of her life. ‘There he is, my revenge, all trussed up like sombudy's Thanksgivin' dinner, lookin' good enough ta eat.’ "Weeelll, hiya honey. Sumbudy gone 'n lef ya jest fer little ole' me?" She'd show that shit head Billy Jack who the lady was here! "Cum on honey lets get this darn tape of yer pretty face." 

She pulled the taped off Laurier's mouth very slowly, she sure didn't want to damage the kisser. "Now cum on 'n tell little ole' Chantal, who dun this to ya?" She straddled his legs and sat on his lap.

"Sheila, her name was Sheila. She teased me into letting her tie me up, and then just left me here . . . all alone." Laurier's face wore a pout as he watched her eyes. He could tell this bitch was no friend of Sheila's. "Come on and let me loose, and I'll give you what I was saving for Sheila." He glanced down between her legs and then smiled his best seductive smile.

"Oooo, poor baby. Let's just get ya outta this silly tape." Before she jumped off his lap, she ran her hands up and down his chest and then just briefly down to his crotch. She searched the room quickly and found a pair of scissors, using them first to free his legs and then his hands. 

Laurier was just waiting for the feel of freedom. When Chantal came around to face him he grabbed the scissors with one hand while backhanding her across the face with the other. His blow sent her reeling across the room and on to the floor. She tried her best to scramble away from him while wiping the blood from her split lip.

Laurier came at her with the scissors, the wild animal look back on his face. "Where's the gun, bitch? There's always a gun in these places, for the whore's to protect themselves." Chantal cried out in pain as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. He held the scissors to her throat. "Tell me or I'll kill you right here." 

The lack of expression in his voice caused her blood to run cold. "You'll kill me anyhow. Why should I tell ya anythin'?"

He yanked on her hair as hard as he could, bringing her back against his chest. Towering over her he whispered in a very soft, very sweet voice. "Because, if you don't tell me in the next five seconds, I will tie you up, stab you in the throat, and leave you to bleed to death. Have you ever watched someone as the life slowly seeps out of them, drop after painful drop, until they just no longer exist?" 

Chantal felt him grow hard against her hip, and thought she would surely pee her pants. "In the planter, over there under the window . . . " she cried, sure that she was dead. "Please don't hurt me, I didn't do nothin' to ya. I won't tell a soul, I promise--"

"God damn it, shut up!" He found the gun and waved it in her face. "If you value your life just SHUT up!" He motioned with the gun for her sit in the chair that had been his permanent place of residence for the last several hours. He used the tape that she had so carefully removed from his mouth to cover hers, and found a curtain cord to bind her hands. When he was confident that she wasn't going anywhere he grabbed her purse and found her keys. He then moved to stand in front of her and pointed the gun right between her eyes.

The man who looked, at first glance at least, exactly like Renfield Turnbull, stood in front of Chantal, pointing a gun two inches from the bridge of her nose. With his free hand he found first her one breast and then the other, squeezing until she moaned in pain. “Like that, whore?” He stood that way for a full minute before a maniacal grin began to distort his face. Tears streamed down her face as he watched her eyes beg silently for her life.

He laughed and feigned pulling the trigger. "Pop, you're dead, bitch." He laughed as he gently wiped the tears from her shocked face. He then slapped her full force with the gun in his hand. He laughed again as she passed out from the force of the blow. "Nighty, night, bitch." 

It only took a couple of minutes for Laurier to find Chantal's car, and only a few more minutes to find the address he had seen on the pussy Mountie brother’s key, the address of the Hunka Hunka Burning Love Waterbed Motel.

While Fraser, Ray and Meg met with Mandy and Sheila at Carrow's Restaurant, and while Turnbull was at the Langoustini residence posing as Laurier, the real René Laurier drove into the parking lot of Kerri's honeymoon motel.

________________________________________________________

25th Piece

The man who looked exactly like Kerri’s husband tried his best to approach room four without being observed, but Dottie saw him from the office window. ‘Such a nice young man, they make such an attractive couple’, she thought as she walked to the door of the office. “Hello, Mr. Turnbull. Hope you’re enjoying you’re stay.”

The man didn’t turn around but waved as he walked away from her. He waited until he heard the office door close and then rounded the corner to room four.

Kerri was dozing lightly in a chair in front of TV when the door came crashing in. The man was on her before she even had a chance to see him. He grabbed her by the hair and shoved the gun hard against her head.

“You must be the bitch who married the . . . brother.” Just as he had with Chantal, Laurier yanked Kerri by the hair back against his chest. Now that he had her where he wanted her he let go of her hair. She couldn’t have moved if she had tried, however, the gun was still pressing against her temple. Kerri tried to cry out for Renny, but could not find her voice.

He ran the back of his hand softly down her cheek, over her shoulder and across her breast. “Mmm, nice taste in bodies my brother has, let’s see the rest of the package.” Still pointing the gun at her head, he spun her around to face him. 

Kerri’s eyes flew wide in terror. It was Renny, but not Renny. He had Renny’s features, but not the soft, sweet face she loved so much. This man’s features were hard, just like the stone in this room. His eyes were the same blue as Renny’s, but not clear and true, this man’s eyes were cold and cruel. She gasped as she realized what she saw in him, depravity and evil, like some cancerous disease that she felt would infect anyone he touched.

“Hmm, great body, lovely face. The pussy brother has good taste.” Kerri shuddered as he laughed. “Maybe in time you’ll learn to treat me like you treat him.” Kerri took an involuntary step backward as he stepped closer to her. He touched her face again and she thought she might faint.

“W . . . w . . . what d . . . d . . . do you want with me?”

“I thought you would have known.” He whispered the words, his breath hot on her face. “Hey, I look just like him, I’m just the improved version. It will be fun, brother and sister . . . Think of it as a comparison test.”

Kerri couldn’t help herself, as she began to realize what he intended, she began to cry. “You’re not fit to kiss his boots. Renfield is the best--”

Laurier laughed loudly enough to wake the dead. “Renfield? Pussy Mountie is named Renfield? Oh, that’s just too hilarious! Renfield Turnbull . . . who names a kid Renfield Turnbull?”

Kerri didn’t even stop to think, “perhaps the same person that named you René Laurier?”

And Laurier didn’t hesitate, he backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor. She was so scared she didn’t even realize she’d hit her head on the stone end table. “Get up bitch, God damn you! We’re going for a ride.” When she didn’t respond quickly enough, René yanked her to her feet by her hair.

Kerri cried out in pain. “W . . . where are you taking me?”

He backhanded her across the face again as he yelled, “SHUT up!” This time Kerri went flying into the nearest waLl, but she didn't have time to fall to the floor before the man who looked exactly like her husband grabbed her by the hair again and dragged her, at unpoint, to Chantal’s car. He didn’t notice Sadie watching out of Dottie's office window.

________________________________________________________

26th Piece

Only a couple of minutes after Laurier sped out of the parking lot with his hostage, Ray, Fraser and Meg returned to the motel. Their meeting had gone extremely well, and they had left Armando and Sheila feeling like their torment was finally coming to an end.

Fraser was even encouraged at the changes he was seeing in Ray, correction Armando. Kowalski would be Ray, and Ray would be Langoustini for another day or so, and then maybe, just maybe some things would return to normal. The sick feeling Fraser got whenever he thought of Turnbull would not be so easily remedied however. He was afraid that the Turnbull/Laurier situation would haunt them all for a long time to come.

They felt comfortable enough about what was happening now to begin discussing the future. "This Ray/Ray thing's gonna get confusin'. I prob'ly otta go back ta Stan. God, I hate that name," Ray muttered under his breath.

"That will be something--" Dottie running toward them cut Fraser off in mid-sentence.

"Mr. Fraser, something very strange happened while you all were gone! Mr. Turnbull was here and Sadie saw him drag his wife to a car. She thought she saw a gun, but she wasn't sure. That seems so unlike Mr. Turnbull, so I thought she must be mistaken--" 

"Christ!" "Oh, my God!" "Oh dear."

Ray dropped Kerri's chocolate shake and left it to melt into the asphalt as the three of them ran to room four. Upon seeing the door hanging on only one hinge, Meg grabbed her phone. Ray and Fraser surveyed the room, but the only interior signs of a struggle were the TV remote in the middle of the floor and an overturned lamp.

"Nothin' in here would move anyway, it all weighs a ton." Ray turned to Fraser the panic clear on his face. Then Fraser spotted the blood on the corner of the end table and more blood on the wall nearest the broken door. 

Ray freaked. "Laurier's got Kerri, Fraser, there’s no tellin' what he'll do ta her! We gotta stop him, and we gotta get ta Turnbull!"

They could hear Meg's voice, loud on the phone. "Sheila, Laurier's escaped. He's got Kerri. Where would he go?" Meg felt her control slipping but knew she could not allow herself to lose it. A cool head was the only way to help her friend!

"We're on our way." Meg dropped the phone into her blazer pocket and turned to Fraser and Ray. “Sheila and Armando are sure he's on his way to their house. They think he'll try to get to Sheila. He doesn't know Turnbull's there. She's calling in the FBI to round all of the people that are already at Morelli's, and she's calling Turnbull to warn him."

"We need ta get there fast." After Ray’s understatement, none of them spoke again as they sped through the almost deserted suburban streets of Las Vegas. Laurier had at least a ten-minute head start on them, and each one of them knew that ten minutes could be a lifetime for Kerri, and for Turnbull. 

________________________________________________________

27th Piece

Sheila got through to the house on the second ring. "Nero, let me talk to Mr. Laurier, it's an emergency."

"Mr. Laurier and Nick are down by the pool, I'll ring him." Nero transferred the call to the pool and Nick answered.

"Let me talk to René, Nick."

"I can sure take a message." 'Make it dirty, baby, let me hear ya talk dirty,' he got hot just at the thought.

"I need to speak to him, right now!"

"All right, all right, keep yer pants on," 'or not,' he thought. Nick handed the phone to Turnbull.

He had to hesitate momentarily to keep from answering 'Turnbull here'. "Hello?"

"Renfield, listen closely. Laurier's escaped. He has Kerri and we think he is on his way there. See if you can incapacitate Nick. Don't worry about Nero, if he sees you take out Nick he'll be your friend forever. Can you do that Renfield?"

"Why of course, pretty lady, I'm putty in your hands. What about the other lady you mentioned?" Turnbull was barely successful in keeping the terror off his face and out of his voice. 

Nick leered at him, two chicks at once? He needed lessons from this guy . . . hey, maybe Laurier would let him join them.

"After you take out Nick, go to the billiard room, it's on the front of the house, and you can see the driveway without being seen. Laurier doesn't know you're there. Keep it that way 'til we get there," she hesitated momentarily, "Renfield, he's got a gun. Don't try to deal with him alone. Wait for us. You hear me? Do not mess with him until we get there, please Renfield. We're only a few minutes behind him."

"Oh, of course, I should be able to comply with all your requests." Renfield hung up the phone and stood staring in to the distance for a few seconds. He had to compose himself, he could NOT allow himself to think about Kerri. 'One step at a time, breathe slowly and think of only the immediate danger. Block all other thoughts out of your mind except this moment. You used to be a master at this. Yes, that's better.' 

When he knew his face did not betray his terror, Turnbull faced Nick. 

"That Sheila's pretty hot stuff, huh Laurier?"

"Pardon? Oh, yeah, hot stuff." He searched the yard of any heavy object he could find.

"Got two going at once, huh man? Ya think I could like, join ya?"

He had absolutely no idea what Nick had just said, so he just agreed. "Sure, that's fine. Ah, any time." He continued to search until he spotted . . . 'greatness'. He came up short at the thought he had just used Ray's favorite term. 'Lord, I hope you're on your way, Ray, I need your help. I don't know if I can do this by myself.'

"Any time? Cool!" Nick followed Laurier around like a puppy. "Do ya, like . . . well, do two at once all the time, or was this kinda like Sheila's idea?"

Turnbull strode up a grassy incline, to a level area above the pool, Nick drooling behind him. "So when's this gonna happen, with the two chicks, I mean?"

Turnbull, intent on his objective, still did not hear Nick's question. "Ever played croquet Nick?"

Nick hated the game. "Nah, it's for wimps."

"Really? I always liked seeing how far," Turnbull hit the ball, hard, into the bushes, "I could hit the ball. Oh, could you get that for me? I guess I don't know my own strength."

Nick muttered as he walked toward the bushes, "good thing he's letting me tag along for the party, ‘cause--" Nick heard a whoosh of air as he bent to search the shrubbery along the edge of the croquet lawn, and in less than a split second, his lights went out. 

Turnbull tossed the croquet mallet next to the body. "Sorry for the ruse, old man, but I can't have you getting in the way. And I sure as Hell can’t let you anywhere near Kerri, she’s MINE!" He made sure Nick's unconscious body was out of view, and then ran to the house. 

Turnbull could not have cut the timing any closer. Just as he found the billiard room and was crossing to the window, Laurier pulled the faded yellow VW bug into the drive.

________________________________________________________

28th Piece

Standing off to the side of the full-length windows Renfield watched as the man, who was his twin, jerked Kerri from the car, causing her to tumble to the asphalt driveway. He had to hold on to the draperies to keep himself from going right through the window after Laurier when he saw the blood on Kerri's upper arm caused from scraping the pavement.

He felt tears form in his eyes as he watched the love of his life, bruises already forming on her beautiful face, being dragged, terrified, toward the front door. He heard the insistent knocking, and heard Nero's shocked response as Laurier pushed his way into the house. Turnbull knew he would never forgive himself for standing helplessly by as he heard Kerri cry out in pain. He could no longer see her, and her cries stabbed at his heart like a knife.

Laurier shouted at both Kerri and Nero. He wanted Sheila, and he wanted her now. Turnbull heard Kerri scream and the thud of what sounded like a body hitting the floor. He held his breath for a split second, until he heard Kerri again. Thank God, the body must have been Nero's. Thank God it wasn't Kerri.

He moved quickly and silently across the thickly carpeted floor toward the hall that led a short distance to the foyer and hid behind the door. He still could not see Laurier or Kerri, so he listened intently.

He could feel the terror in Kerri's voice reverberate through his body as she begged Laurier to stop hurting her, and he could hear the insanity in Laurier's laugh. The more Kerri begged, the more he hurt her, and the more he hurt her, the more Turnbull panicked.

He had to save her, and he couldn't wait for the others to get here. He had to get Laurier's hands off his wife. Without any kind of weapon, Turnbull could think of only one thing to do.

He stepped quietly into the hall. "Please don't hurt her, René. She's done nothing to you. Let her go, and we can work something out. She's my . . . "

Laurier froze in place. The sight of the look alike, the brother, at first surprised, then disgusted him. He grabbed Kerri around the neck and pulled her up against his chest, pointing the gun somewhere in the vicinity of her right cheek. "Maybe I should shoot her just so you can watch her die, huh, brother? Or," he now pointed the gun at Renfield, "maybe I should shoot you. This town ain't big enough for two of us, pardner." He laughed loudly at his own humor. "What'll it be, huh, brother? You first, or her?" His eyes widened as he had an even better idea, “or better yet, why don’t I do her and you can watch? She good, brother? Certainly has the body for love, but I guess I don’t need to tell you that, pussy Mountie Renfield.”

Turnbull fought valiantly to control the rage that was building in him as he slowly advanced on Laurier and Kerri. The closer he came the better he could see the terror on Kerri's face. She had not uttered a sound since first seeing Renfield, but he could tell his presence had done little to assuage her fear. He tried his best to send her messages with his eyes.

"You didn't answer my question, pussy Mountie Renfield. Who's it going to be first, you or the bitch?"

Turnbull felt his mind go numb at the thought that this man, his brother, would call such a lovely, caring woman as Kerri a 'bitch'. He fought to control himself; he was trained for these situations. He knew what to do. He could do this. He had to control himself. He knew what to do. He had to control himself.

"I don't see why anyone has to die here, René. I am your brother, and Kerri is my wife-- "

“Renny, please . . . don’t--”

"Renny and Kerri, God it's enough to make a man ill. One of you has to die, if only to save the world from those god awful names."

At that moment Turnbull became aware of movement behind René and Kerri and saw a flash that he prayed was the reflection off a gun barrel. Reinforcements!

________________________________________________________

29th Piece

"Please don't shoot my wife René, she is such a nature lover. She especially loves giraffes . . ." 

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Laurier thought this guy was nuts. But Kerri knew. In her mind, even clouded by fear, she knew Renny was trying to tell her Ray was here. And with Ray came all the help Renny would need. 

Kerri slowly came back to herself. The mindless terror she had felt since Laurier burst into the motel room started to fade and she began to think more clearly. She continued to stare into Renny's eyes and draw strength from them.

She waited for just the right moment. It came when a noise from behind them startled Laurier and he loosened his grip on her as he turned toward the noise. Kerri was able to elbow him in the stomach hard enough to be able to escape his hold and throw herself to the floor.

Laurier was able to fire one wild shot, which went way wide of its mark, before Turnbull was on him. All of the others present found themselves frozen in place as they watched the struggle between the brothers who looked, on the surface at least, exactly alike. It was a conflict between different souls however, right against wrong, virtue against virulence, good against evil. As they fought, yet another shot was discharged from the gun, just as Sheila and Armando ran through the front door. Before anyone else could find their legs to join in the fight, yet another muffled shot was heard. Time stopped dead as everyone waited to see where the bullet had gone. Everyone heard Armando screaming in the background as they watched Laurier slip to the floor. 

Turnbull left Laurier in a heap on the floor and took a staggering turn toward Kerri, who lay against a far wall, trembling uncontrollably. Turnbull stood immobile, between his brother and his wife, unable to move or think.

Ray watched the scene before him as Laurier lay bleeding on the floor. "Get . . . the . . . bro . . . ther . . . I . . ."

Ray would have preferred to kick him, but it looked like the guy was dying. He touched Turnbull lightly on the shoulder. "He wants ya."

Turnbull turned away from Kerri to kneel by his brother. "The better . . . man won, huh, brother? Good has . . . triumphed . . . over evil? Is that what . . . you think?” Laurier drew one shaky breath. “*Je te verrai dans l'Enfer, mon frere*, and then the life left him and René Laurier breathed his last.

Horrified at the tone of Laurier’s words, Ray placed his hand softly on his friend’s shoulder. “What did he say? 

Turnbull continued to stare at Laurier as he knelt by the lifeless form that was his double. “He said he’d see me in Hell.”

As Ray stood by Turnbull, unsure what to say to comfort his friend, he became aware that Kerri was still lying on the cold marble floor, stunned and trembling. Turnbull looked as if he would not be able to help her, so Ray was about to help her up when he heard Armando scream. "Oh, God, NO!"

The second bullet discharged from Laurier’s gun had missed its intended target, but it had found Sheila. She lay in the front doorway, blood pouring from her chest, where Laurier’s bullet had stopped her in her tracks. Armando held her in his arms, crying into her hair.

Ray heard Armando scream when FBI and paramedics arrived and pushed him out of the way.

________________________________________________________

30th Piece

Sheila LaRue, twenty-four year old surfer girl from Newport Beach and FBI agent died on the way to the hospital. Armando, Fraser and Meg raced behind the ambulance in one car while Ray, Turnbull and Kerri followed in another. By the time they reached the emergency room, Sheila was already inside, and the doctors already knew there was nothing more they could do for her.

Agent Kevin Mullins met with the small group in the waiting room. "Agent LaRue died from a single gunshot wound, inflicted by René Laurier, who was later killed by you, Constable Turnbull. Too bad so many people know Laurier died, we could’ve used you undercover, the resemblance is remarkable.

“Langoustini, as far as everyone on both sides of the law knows, you were killed too. It would behoove you to let your friends get you out of town as soon as possible. We've rounded up all of the Iguana family and all but two of the members of the Richelieu family that we know about, but the Mexicans hadn’t crossed the border yet. It was extremely stupid of you all to try to do this without us, but all in all, an extremely successful operation. Get out of town Vecchio, you're no good to us anymore, and you'd probably turn up dead if anyone left found out you were still alive. There’ll be a private jet at McCarran. Agent Walker will take you to the airport. We'll be in touch."

__________

Their bags were waiting for them when they arrived at the small, private terminal, just three hours after the gun battle at Armando Langoustini’s home. Three hours that had seemed like a lifetime.

Ray had spent the time watching Turnbull and Kerri very closely. Kerri had received a few stitches in her scalp to closeup the wound she had received hitting her head on that stone table, but there was very little that could be done for the bruises on her face. The doctor was very concerned about her emotional state but knew not to ask why the FBI needed to get all these people out of town quickly. Ray watched as the doctor gave Turnbull instructions regarding the dressing on her injured arm but was just about sure that Turnbull had not heard a word the doctor said.

By the time they reached the deserted terminal, Ray had seen Kerri reach for Turnbull at least three times and had seen Turnbull move away from her all three times. When a bruised and battered Kerri came out of the exam room it was Meg who helped her to a chair, Turnbull being too involved in a discussion with Mullins. He made it a point to sit in the front set of the van that took all of them to the airport, leaving Ray and Meg to try to comfort the trembling woman. Ray had even seen Kerri reach for Turnbull’s hand as they entered the terminal, but Turnbull was too engrossed with opening the glass door to respond.

Once inside the terminal, it was Fraser who went in search of a blanket to cover Kerri. Ray was afraid she was going into shock, she had not stopped trembling since she had fallen to the floor after getting away from Laurier, and she could not seem to warm up. She had not spoken or even shed a tear. He'd heard the ER doc mention that they'd really like to keep her overnight but Mullins emphatically refused, stating that they all needed to get out of Las Vegas with 'all due haste'.

Kerri sat on a bench in the terminal while Turnbull stood, several feet away, and stared out at the runway lights. Meg had taken up trying to comfort Kerri as best she could.

Ray watched all of this with growing anger and frustration. Kerri needed Turnbull and he was avoiding her like she had the plague. When Turnbull walked away from the window a very angry Ray followed him.

________________________________________________________

31st Piece

Ray found him in the men’s room, leaning over the sink splashing water on his face.

“You son of a bitch, what the hell do ya think yer doing?” Before the shocked Turnbull could respond, Ray hurried on. “That woman out there, yer WIFE for God’s sake, needs you! She's been through the worst experience of her life, and when she reaches out fer comfort from the one man in the world who can give it ta her, what do ya do? Ya turn yer back on her! I can’t friggin’ believe it! What in the hell are ya thinkin’?” There were few times in his life that he could remember being so angry. “The two a you are the best friends I got, but I promise you if you don't--”

When Turnbull stood up and faced him, Ray was shocked by the rage he saw. “You think I like not being able to comfort her? You think I’m getting a kick out of knowing she’s suffering?" His shouts reverberated through the porcelain and tile room. "I killed him! I killed my BROTHER - my TWIN brother to get his hands off . . . Have you got any idea what that feels . . . How it feels to see . . . to see MYSELF hurting her? I love her for God’s sake! She is the most . . .” Turnbull's angry words caught in his throat and he had to stop himself to keep from completely losing his composure. He turned and braced his hands on either side of the sink and hung his head. After a few moments he slammed his hands on the edges of the sink. When he looked back at Ray and began to speak again, Ray could hardly hear him. “I did this to her.” Ray could see the tears gathering in his eyes. “For the rest of her life, every time she looks at me she’ll see him, the man who hit . . . who hurt . . . who had his hands on . . . dear God . . . who threatened to rape and kill her! The man who looked just like . . . Every time she looks at me with those beautiful blue eyes I’ll see that same fear and loathing I saw when she looked at him. I can’t bear that Ray, to have her look at me and see - him.”

“Ya gotta try, man. Ya gotta try to comfort her. I don’t know much about gettin’ a woman’s love, but I sure as hell know about losin’ it. And I know that if you don’t at least try you’ll lose her. She will stop lovin’ ya because lovin’ ya hurts her too much. And I know her well enough ta know that if she shuts down her love fer you she will never ever love any thing or any one again. Ya gotta try.” Ray sighed as Turnbull turned away from him to stare at his reflection in the mirror. “I promise you if, if ya drive her away, you’ll be drivin’ away every friend ya ever had, I hope ya know that.”

Ray shook his head in defeat as he left Turnbull staring at his reflection in the unforgiving glass. Ray returned to the terminal to find Meg with her arm around Kerri. “She’s so cold, and I don’t think she hears what I’m saying to her. Did talking to him help?”

Ray stared at Meg and Kerri, and then turned to glance briefly at Fraser and Langoustini, correction, Vecchio sitting silently in a far corner. Why the hell had he ever suggested that they come to Las-- Out of the corner of his eye he saw Turnbull walking toward them. Silently he motioned for Meg to move away from Kerri.

________________________________________________________

32nd Piece

Renfield knelt in front of Kerri and stared at her. The swollen eye and bruises distorted her lovely face and caused him to want to weep. She didn’t really see him, with glassy eyes, she stared at some unseen spot over his left shoulder.

“Kerri?” he whispered, still afraid to touch her. “Kerri, please look at me? It’s Renny, Kerri, I’m here.” When he finally took her hands in his he was shocked at how cold they were. “It’s okay now, he won’t ever hurt you again, I’m here.”

Slowly, he felt her hands warm to his touch, and slowly he saw her eyes begin to focus on his face. He held his breath, as she became aware of his presence. He watched closely as tears began to form. In a trembling, halting voice she spoke to him for the first time since before Laurier had been killed, “oh, Renny . . . I was so, so scared. He was going to . . . he said . . . he threatened all sorts of, of awful things. I didn’t know . . . I wanted you . . . I wasn’t . . . didn't know . . . what to do. I’m sorry I was such a coward.”

He gently touched her bruised face as he felt his heart turn over in his chest. It had been so terribly close. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t prevent him from hurting you. He was so much like me . . .”

Kerri looked genuinely confused. “He wasn’t . . . anything . . . like you.” She shuddered at the thought of that evil man. “Oh sure, at . . . at first glance he . . . he looked like you, but . . . but any one who looked closely enough would . . . would know that, that he really didn’t look any thing like you.”

“But, he was identical . . .”

Through her tears, Kerri began to come back to herself. “But he really didn’t look like you. I know.” She whispered as she lightly touched his hair, right over his left ear. “He didn’t have that little cowlick, right here, that sticks out when you wake up in the morning.” She touched his upper lip, “or that little curl that you lip does when you’re trying so hard not to laugh at something silly I’ve done. Or,” she caressed his forehead, “that little line that forms right here when you frown at Dickens.” She gently touched the outer corner of his right eye, “or that ever so slight little twitch of pride that happens right here, whenever Benton pays you a compliment.”

He stared at her in amazement. Kerri returned his gaze through the eyes of love. “But most of all he didn’t look like you here.” She placed her palms gently on either side of his face, and Renny closed his eyes as she ran her thumbs lightly over them. “It’s like God took all the love, caring, thoughtfulness, kindness and truth that one man can have, with just a little anger, jealousy, and devilment thrown in, and rolled them all up in a ball and made Renfield Turnbull. He then took all the leftover hatred, malevolence, rage and just downright evil and made René Laurier.” She shuddered, “I’m so sorry Renny, he was just pure evil. But there wasn’t one thing, physically or spiritually that resembled you in the slightest.”

Kerri had stopped trembling; she wasn’t cold anymore. Renny searched her eyes and knew she spoke the truth. “I just wish . . . wish for you . . . with all my heart that I could have seen something about him that was good, something that made him even the slightest bit like you.”

“He wasn’t completely bad," he lied to Kerri for the first, and he hoped to God last time, ever. "The very last thing he said to me was that he was sorry for hurting you.” Kerri smiled deeply as Renny took her into his arms.

Ray watched his friends as they slowly began the healing process. He wished, all the way down to the soles of his feet, that he could find someone to share the kind of love Turnbull and Kerri had found with each other. No matter what had happened to them over the last several months, they had somehow always found their way back to one another. Ray was still deeply worried about Turnbull, however. What he had been through the last couple of days would not be easily healed.

He looked around the terminal at the devastation that just a few days in Las Vegas had caused. He smiled just slightly as he looked at Fraser, though. He and Vecchio sat in a far corner, Fraser with his arm around his friend, offering comfort to the grieving man. Fraser was always there for his friends, just never before in such an open and caring way. ‘Meg’s done that fer ya buddy, good fer her,’ he thought that no matter what their Mountie bosses said about the superior/subordinate relationship thing, Fraser and Thatcher belonged together, come hell or high water. He had a hunch after all they’d been through the last couple of days they wouldn’t try to keep it a secret any longer, either. And as far as Ray was concerned that was ‘greatness’.

Ray turned away from Fraser to see Meg, sitting somewhere between her lover and her best friend. Far enough away from each of them so as not to intrude yet close enough to be of assistance if she were needed. He went to sit with her.

“This has been a pretty rough coupla days, huh?”

“That’s an understatement. God, Ray, I - what am I supposed to call you now?” She’d always thought of him as, well, she wouldn’t think about him like that any more! Now she needed a name to call him. 

“I answer to ‘hey you’ just great. Nah, call me Ray, at least ‘til we get everybudy home safe and sound, then we can figure sumpthin’ out. I don’t really wanna think about that now, my brain's dead.”

“Ray it is. So, Ray, are we going to survive this?” she sighed as she looked at Turnbull and Kerri. “I’m very worried about Turnbull.”

“Me too. I doubt he’s ever killed a man before, and ta have the first be yer brother . . . I can’t even imagine how he must be feelin’.”

“Fraser can take care of Vecchio, and you and I will watch over Turnbull and Kerri, deal?”

Ray took her hand and gave it a healthy squeeze. “Deal.”

Ray continued to watch them until long after they boarded the small jet for their return trip to Chicago. He watched as Turnbull held Kerri in his arms as they slept. They weren’t newlyweds anymore, the honeymoon really having lasted only about twenty-four hours, and they weren't really very cute any more either. Kerri bore the physical signs of the beating she had taken, and, although it wasn't as obvious, Turnbull bore the emotional signs of the beating he had taken.

Ray was desperately sorry that he had yelled at his friend. He made sure they were both sound asleep before he tiptoed up to them. “You guys've been through enough,” he whispered as he covered both of them with a blanket. “I promise ya both I'll never let anythin' bad happen to ya again. Ya have my word. I love you guys.”

Ray was stopped dead in his tracks as he turned back toward his seat. “Thank you Ray, we love you too,” Turnbull smiled, ever so slightly, as he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Ray smiled and shook his head as he returned to his seat. ‘Damn Canadians, got ears like a bat’.

________________________________________________________

33rd Piece

It had been over a month since Ray Vecchio left Armando Langoustini in Las Vegas. Any Iguana family members who might still be free, or who still cared, thought Langoustini was dead, killed in the foyer of his Las Vegas home along with Sheila LaRue. Fraser and the rest of his friends had seen to it that Ray had been smuggled safely out of the city, and back to Chicago.

But Ray wasn’t back completely, not really - not yet. He had received a hero’s welcome and been promoted to Lieutenant. But the old Ray, the one who loved Benny like a brother, who got a kick out of trading insults with the Dragon Lady, took care of his ma, bickered with Frannie, Maria and Tony, and who looked for every reason to belittle the Duck Boys, that Ray was nowhere to be found. What existed in his place was a sullen, unresponsive, shell of Ray Vecchio.

Leaving Las Vegas had not made the changes in him that they all desperately wanted to see. Lieutenant Welsh was now his peer, but felt the need to treat Ray as a subordinate, and as a brother. He fretted and worried along with all the other people who knew and cared about Ray. But all the fretting and worrying in the world seemed to have no effect.

He completed his paperwork on time, that in itself being totally unlike the man, and he never complained, also totally unlike him. He picked at huge meals prepared by his mother, and begged off of invitations for dinner with Fraser and Stan. Socializing over food, actually socializing at all, was the last thing he was interested in.

He went for twice weekly appointments with the FBI psychologist, required of all operatives who had served lengthy deep cover assignments, but nothing seemed to help. There was no one, alive anyway, that understood just what he'd been through. He continued to lose weight and retreat farther and farther into himself.

He had taken to daily lunchtime walks along the lake. Many who knew him wondered what he was looking for, but Ray knew. Deep inside, he knew what he was searching for. He was searching for something he had lost – himself.

As he walked along the lake on this day he didn't really see any of the other people that shared the sidewalk with him. For the first time since he had returned to Chicago, he was allowing himself to think about his time in Las Vegas. He turned down a path that led away from the lake. He knew that up just a few yards was a secluded bench, where he could watch the world go by and still see the lake. But it was also private enough to allow him his contemplation.

As he sat on the hard wooden bench, he thought of Sheila and the first time they had met. Within minutes of taking him to her room, he had fallen asleep in her arms. He smiled to himself just slightly. In a brothel, with a beautiful, young, voluptuous, almost naked woman, and what does he do? If the guys at the 27th Precinct ever heard about that, he'd never live it down. The thought of Sheila, wrapped in that towel brought tears to his eyes. He remembered vividly how he had felt as she drew him in to her embrace: warmed and comforted, and almost safe.

He smiled again as he thought of the first time that they had made love, if that was the appropriate term for their actions of that day. He thought of her body, warmed by the sun, as she lay in his arms, and he thought of the comfort and passion they shared with each other that afternoon by the pool. It was a stupid, dangerous thing to do, but just for the briefest of moments of they both needed to not think of the potential consequences, they just desperately needed the shelter of another human being's embrace.

And when he could no longer resist the urge, Ray thought of the day Sheila died. The plan was elegant in its simplicity. Turnbull would take Laurier's place, and they would show up at Morelli's mansion Monday morning acting as if they didn't have a care in the world. As soon as the last of the families had arrived, Armando and Laurier would feign a jealous quarrel over Sheila, which would escalate into a brawl that would necessitate both men leaving the meeting. Once the two of them were out of harm's way, the Feds would be called in to deal with the people at the house. Or so the simple plan went.

Ray ran his hands over his balding head. She had been right behind him, for God's sake! Running through the door in response to the gunshot . . . she had been right behind . . .

After the second shot was fired, Armando turned to find her where she had fallen, in the doorway, bleeding from a wound to her head from impacting a tile planter, and blood pouring from her chest where Laurier's bullet had stopped her in her tracks. He had been told he screamed, but could not remember uttering a sound, as he knelt and gathered her up in his arms.

The thought of that warm, lovely young woman, lying alone and cold in some pine box somewhere, under six feet of earth, was more than Ray could bear.

He knew what it was like to be lonely, he remembered well that crushing feeling after he and Ange split. It was the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Ray felt like that now, only a hundred times worse. It had only been an assignment, for God’s sake, but he knew he was in a big way responsible for the deaths of two fine FBI agents, Michael Leoni and Sheila LaRue.

He hadn’t known Mickey very long, or very well, and he hadn’t known Sheila very long either, but he had known her, so very well. He knew he had never really loved her, but he respected and admired her more than any one he had ever known, with the possible exception of Fraser.

She was young and bright and had so damn much to live for. As he sat on the bench, he felt the anger well up inside. ‘Dear God, what’d you have to go and let her die for? She was so beautiful and caring, and so good. She wanted to do so much with her life. Damn it God, why?’

Ray sat and watched the joggers, skaters and couples pass, oblivious to his presence. He sat there for a very long time, just staring toward the lake. It was a beautiful day, a little warm for the way he was dressed, but he didn’t notice. He was cold most all the time now anyway. Everyone he saw seemed to be so happy, relaxed and at peace with the world. When had it happened that he had forgotten how to feel like that?

Ray watched as the sun made its way across the afternoon sky. He knew it was far past time to return to work, but he just couldn’t bring himself to move off the bench. Lately he’d been wondering what the point was anyway, nothing mattered to him any more, not even his life.

Ray didn’t hear the rustling of the bushes behind him, or see the young woman emerge. She stood watching him for several moments, frowning deeply at the changes she saw. She’d been right to insist that they bring her here, he needed her, as she had known that he would.

________________________________________________________

34th Piece

The young woman, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, slowly made her way up behind him. She put her hand gently on his shoulder as she walked around the bench. “Hello, Mandy,” she whispered as she sat next to him.

It took Ray a second to comprehend what was happening. The blonde hair, done up in a ponytail under an Anaheim Angels baseball cap, and the blue eyes that sparkled at him, threw him for a second, but he would never forget that voice.

“Sheila?” He looked shocked and surprised and delighted and scared all at the same time. “Dear God in heaven, it is you! You’re alive? What . . .”

Sheila nodded and Ray could not continue, tears streaming down his face. “I . . . I . . . we . . . were told . . . you were . . . dead. You . . . died on the way to the hospital.”

Sheila wanted to take him in her arms, just like she had that first time they met at the PassionFlower, but she was not sure that that was such a good idea, not yet. So she just spoke softly to him, “I was shot, Ray, but it was actually just a flesh wound. I was knocked out when I hit my head. There were a lot of people who needed to think I was dead, so the Bureau arranged with the hospital to fake it.” She looked at the pain and hurt on his face and in his eyes. “But I had to let you know, only you, that it wasn’t true. I couldn’t bear the thought that I hurt you.” She ran her hand over his cheeks, wiping his tears. Now there were tears in her eyes.

Ray studied her face for several long moments, before pulling her into his embrace. He immediately felt her flinch. “What’s wrong, are you still hurt?” He looked down at her chest and had his answer.

Sheila smiled shyly. “Yep, had the implants removed, and I’m still a little sore. Those things are dangerous, you know?”

Ray gave her a very fatherly smile. “You look much better without them. But what’s with the blonde hair, blue eyed look?”

“This is the real me . . . Ray. Marybeth Weber.”

“Not Sheila LaRue?”

“Not Armando Langoustini?” Ray laughed for the first time in well, Ray couldn’t remember the last time he had really laughed. It was music to her ears.

“Sheila LaRue is dead, Ray. She died in that hospital in Las Vegas.”

“And Armando Langoustini died in the foyer of his home.”

She searched his eyes. “Did he Ray? Is Armando really dead? And is Ray Vecchio really back?”

Ray turned away from her. He didn’t answer her question because he didn’t know the answer.

“You lost yourself somewhere in Vegas, didn’t you Ray?” She gently pulled him back to face her. “You changed, Ray. But I changed too. Neither one of us will ever be the same, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We learned a helluva lot from our experiences out there, and it affected us. But you aren’t any less a man now than you were before you left. I never knew the old Ray Vecchio, but I sure do like the new one. He’s kind and gentle, no more like Langoustini than the man in the moon, or, or Laurier was like Constable Turnbull.”

Ray smiled slightly. Knowing she was alive changed so many things. He wasn’t responsible for the death of the sweet young woman, but more than that there was someone else alive who understood just what he had been through. Seeing Sheila again was just what the doctor ordered.

She saw the change come over Ray in an instant. He came alive again. Now was probably not the best time to bring up the rest, but she had no choice. “Ray,” she said in the kindest voice that she could muster, “I’ve got to go now.”

Ray had known from the first moment he had seen her that she was just passing through, but that didn’t make her announcement any easier to take. “You’re on to another assignment?”

“Yep. Can’t tell you where, but it sure won’t be like the last one. Nothing will ever be like what it was with you. I’ll miss you, Ray.” They stood and held hands briefly, before she turned to walk away. She had only taken a few steps when she turned and ran back to him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll never forget you. You were my first.” She turned and headed up the path.

“Pardon?” What the hell, “your first what?”

She turned her head and smiled over her shoulder, ponytail swishing back and forth. “You figure it out!” And then she was gone.

A smiling Ray Vecchio sat back down on the bench, propping his elbows on his knees. He ran his hands over his almost non-existent hair and thought about Sheila LaRue and Marybeth Weber. Two women he would remember for the rest of his life, one for who she had been and the other for what she had, and now would, become.

He smiled as he realized he could finally leave Las Vegas behind him. Now he had to get on with his life, the new life of the new, and improved, Ray Vecchio.

The End


End file.
